Half Empty
by LolliliciousLolly
Summary: ...Is the glass half full, or half empty? At the darkest hour, when CeeCee and Adam can taste death, what truths will be divulged? Near death experiences can bring out the worst in people. This is CeeCee’s story...[Finished, tagteam.]
1. White Hair

Summary: Is the glass half full, or half empty? At the darkest hour, when CeeCee and Adam can taste death, what truths will be divulged? Near death experiences can bring out the worst in people. This is CeeCee's story.  
  
Disclaimer: No ownership here. Meg gets it all, aaah poo.  
  
Authors notes: THIS IS BY ANGELIC HALO AND MYSTIQUE ANGELIQUE. Majority of the Mediator stories are written from the point of view of the beautiful ass-kicking babe, Suze. But what about the people in the background? What do they see? What do they feel? Here's how it is to CeeCee Webb. This is Post-Haunted. Enjoy!  
  
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Another day of school. Just fabulous.  
  
Don't get me wrong. I like school and all. Just, you know . . . you know? Okay, you don't know. Great. Well, I'm only explaining once. It's too annoying. And it'll probably waste your time, you know, something this unlikely . . .  
  
You know how at school, there's always that one guy? The guy that you go to school for? Who makes your day to see? Who stands out from the crowd, to you? Who makes you smile during class, just to think about him?  
  
Well, that's Adam McTavish.  
  
But oh, it gets worse.  
  
He's my best friend.  
  
Yep. Classic case of anti-cliché.  
  
Oh, it's not what you think. I'm not a pretty peppy cheerleader who lives in her cherry-pink lipgloss. Ha. That's funny. Tell another one, please. Nah, I'm CeeCee Webb. The nerd. The one with the really, really, really white hair. The one who would be disappointed with a B. Who always has her hand up in Chemistry. What can I say? Science fascinates me, almost as much as gossip. I just love to write about facts and scandals. They are just so intriguing, the fact that some people could do such inglorious things. Real people! Getting caught up in things that they can't control, or can, and chose to do the wrong thing! It's just so –  
  
. . . Sorry. I know. I suck, don't I? Well, don't I know it. Yeah, I'm not exactly the kind of girl to run up to a guy and snog him on the lips. No, I seem to have more dignity than that, damn it. Which is probably why Adam barely knows I exist, except the friend he bums his homework answers off. It really eats me up the way he flirts with Suze.  
  
Oh yeah. Susannah Simon.  
  
Don't call me bitter or anything, but when Suze Simon came to the Junipero Serra Mission Academy, well, things with Adam got a whole lot worse. He is TOTALLY into her! It's not fair! Just because she's the tough brunette from New York with the black clothes and the punk attitude, the gorgeous figure and stuff? Well, it sucks how he's hanging of her every limb, half the day. He's like her chauffeur or something. Drives Suze everywhere, like a lap- dog. I know, I'm a bitch. I know it!  
  
I don't blame Suze, I don't! I mean, she can't help that Adam falls over himself when he walks in the room. She can't help that he gets goggle-eyes all the time, just thinking about her. Trust me, I know when he thinks about her. He tells me enough. "Doesn't Suze have the cutest smile?" "Do you think Suze would say yes if I asked her to the movies on Saturday?"  
  
What am I supposed to say? "No, because you're too much of a joker and Suze would never be interested in someone who thinks that George Bush is possessed by a monkey."  
  
He'd looooooove that . . .  
  
Adam, I mean, not George Bush. Well, him too. And I was being SARCASTIC.  
  
But yeah. It's hard, with Suze here. Adam still trips over his words, even though she's been here for a whole year. And I know secretly that Suze wouldn't ever go for Adam. She's totally hung over this other guy, I think his name's Jesse, and Jesse's a –  
  
Never mind.  
  
Well, yeah, okay. I'll tell you, if you promise not to tell. I mean, it's some really good scuttlebutt, I gotta tell! Suze can talk to the dead. No, I'm serious. Full on "I see dead people." It's totally explaining a lot, let me tell you. Especially lately, from this party at Brad's house. Brad Ackerman's her step-brother. He's a total jock. But yeah, Suze totally went flippo at the party, and kept yelling out to this guy Jesse, who clearly wasn't there.  
  
Hence, Jesse is a ghost.  
  
A spirit. A ghoul. An ooglie-booglie-boo! You know? I know, it sounds totally spastic. But it's true. I saw it with my own eyes. And I'm not someone who would believe this kind of thing unless I have visual, oral and aural proof at the ready. But there's no other way to explain how this other guy, Paul Slater, was being held underwater by seemingly nothing. Yeah, Jesse was doing it.  
  
So yeah. Suze is not into Adam. She was just telling me how badly it's been going for her and Jesse only recently. Bastard apparently moved out. Damn him, she's been really bummed out lately. But anyway. Only, Adam still tries to impress her. You can tell. He spouts the CHEESIEST pick up lines some times, like "You look like an angel. Welcome to Earth," all the way to "Hey...somebody farted. Let's get away to my place." And then there was the "Can I take your picture? Because I want Santa to know exactly what I want for Christmas" one . . . We didn't stop laughing . . .  
  
I mean, Adam, my friends, has no shame.  
  
But I love him.  
  
I really do . . .  
  
No, this is not hormonal. It really isn't. We've been in school together our whole lives. We've lived in Carmel since forever, and every moment, we're always hanging with each other. It's just . . . I dunno, I just wish it were more. I just wish he'd stop seeing me as the science geek. Because, serious, that's probably all I am to him. The best friend who is just there. That's all I'll ever be, with Suze here. She doesn't even know how much Adam talks about her. She hasn't got a clue. She's too busy babbling on about "Oooh, Jesse hates me" and "Paul's trying to get me."  
  
Again, who's bitter?  
  
. . . Stop looking at me.  
  
NOW.  
  
But . . . you know. It's hard to compete with her on something she doesn't even know she's in the prize draw for. God, I don't hate her. No way. In fact, Adam aside, she's my best friend. She really gets me. She doesn't even care that I'm an albino freak. Serious, I have WHITE hair! It's not cool! It's alien!  
  
But Suze doesn't care. She's totally cool with it. Like I'm just like everyone else. It feels, you know, nice to have a friend – that's a girl – that I can hang with.  
  
I just wish ADAM would open his eyes, and see me, not the pretty brunette who threatens to break peoples' fingers when they piss her off.  
  
I . . . I dunno. I just wish he'd see me. Me, CeeCee Webb. I wish he'd see me, staring at him.  
  
But that's not going to happen any time soon, is it?  
  
Oh well, school calls.  
  
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'Hey CeeCee. What's been up? You're looking pale today. I mean, your hair's white and everything - oh yeah, the albino thing. Me observant, yeah, me am.'  
  
This is the greeting I get from the guy of my dreams. Isn't he a charmer?  
  
I rolled my eyes at him boredly. 'Whatever, Mac. Did you even get that essay for World Civ. done?'  
  
'Yes, mum,' he snapped.  
  
Oh God . . . HOW DO I MANAGE TO ALWAYS TALK ABOUT SCHOOL?!  
  
. . . It's natural, damn it.  
  
I groaned inwardly as we were walking out around down the hallways, lined with endless lockers. Clumps of girl were standing around, chatting loudly about leg waxes and facials. Was that what I needed to talk about to get Adam to like me? Did I have to become one of these girls? Be insensitive and egotistical? I didn't want to be like that. I cared about other people, and about issues and stuff, outside the world of cosmetics, you know? I was smart. And uncle says I'm lucky. He says that, for an albino, I'm stunning. But I still don't exactly know if that's a compliment, or not, so strike that from the record, right?  
  
Again, I rolled my eyes. What? Force of habit, so beat it.  
  
'Glad to see you've still got the eye-rolling thing happening there,' he remarked with a wide grin, staring at me sideways. 'You haven't done it for a while. I was beginning to think I'd lost my touch. You know, the "piss- the-shit-out-of-Spider-Webb" touch. You see, us McTavishes work as laxatives. We annoy the shit out of you. Cheers!' he chaffed loudly, spreading out his arms boldly.  
  
A few people turned and stared a little.  
  
Um . . . yeah. That other thing about Adam? He draws a lot of attention to himself. Not in the best way, either. Yeah . . .  
  
'Don't call me "Spider Webb",' I snapped at him. 'Ha, McTavishes? It's only you that drives me insane.' I gave him a pointed glare as we rounded the corner of the locker-lined wall, heading no where in particular, just waiting for a stimulating day of school. Oh, the sarcasm.  
  
'Nah, trust me. It's totally genetic,' he said. 'I mean, with my brother, you can totally tell we were wading in the same gene pool. You know, the laxative effect is very obvious. People shitting them selves all over the place.'  
  
Joy.  
  
'Family reunions must be barrels of laughter then,' I drawled.  
  
'No, Cee, not laughter. Shit,' he said with emphasis on his term for defecation. Man, this guy is not a turn on, by any means. Sheesh . . . 'Aren't yours?' he asked suddenly.  
  
'What?'  
  
'Family reunions,' he simpered. 'You know, that old bat?' He then said, in dramatic mockery of me, '"Aunt Pru? Will I EVER be able to parallel park?" Ha! Cleopatra my butt.'  
  
I glared. Yeah. Go the glaring, argh.  
  
'Hehehe, whoa Cee. Quit with the glare scare. SO not attractive. You're frightening the infants,' he mused. I kind of went red there. He just said the word "attractive" in reference to me . . . of course, it took a moment or two to realize that the word "not" had been oh-so-nicely chucked before it. To cover up my embarrassment, I scowled.  
  
'You're the only baby here,' was my witty come back. 'Fear me, foolish earthling. Yeah.' I glared some more.  
  
He snickered. Which was totally fair. Because that had been so lame, sheesh . . .  
  
'Me, a babe?' he asked slyly.  
  
'Baby. Immature, young, naïve,' I snapped, and stopped in front of the Chem. classroom momentarily to check if Miss Phillips was in there. I needed to see her about an assignment that I wanted to redo. I so had not come up to standard with it, and it really needed repeating. I mean, I'd only got 80%. That's bad for me, and I knew all my stuff on this, too. It was all about, you know, molecular study and atomic explanations and stuff. I mean, I couldn't BELIEVE that I'd gotten the neutrons and the nucleus mixed up! That was like science suicide, it was BASIC stuff. I felt awful about it.  
  
But nah, Miss Phillips was AWOL. Joy.  
  
'. . . Baby,' Adam shrugged thoughtfully. 'I can live with that. So where's my dummy then? Hell, my bottle. I wanna suck something.' He shot my an impish grin, 'I'll just settle for my –'  
  
'Adam!' I hissed in disgust.  
  
' –Thumb,' he replied, smirking. Oh God, you're kidding me, right?  
  
But noooo. He promptly did just that.  
  
Only for show, mind. I swear, I'm gonna kill him one day, which would be kind of a shame, as that tends to obliterate all romantic possibilities.  
  
He sniggered, 'Aaah, Cee, I saw that fear in your eyes, don't deny it, Cobwebb.'  
  
I whacked him on the back of the head, turning away from the door of the Chem. class. Oh well, I'd see her later. I couldn't just let a mark like THAT stay. It was diabolical!  
  
'Don't call me that,' I snapped at him. 'Immature idiot.'  
  
He looked a little shocked for a second, but then settled for a pout. 'Well, I see someone's got knotted panties today.'  
  
And swiftly blew a big fat raspberry.  
  
Niiiice.  
  
I rolled my eyes, and kept walking.  
  
He ran up to me. 'Aww, come on Cee, what's got you all moody? I mean, you were fine . . . ' he suddenly grinned evilly, 'It's not that "monthly" thing, right?'  
  
I made a huge face. 'No! Just shut up, I'm not happy. Get over it. I've got a story due in for the school paper today on the injustice of having no canteen facilities, and I haven't done NEARLY enough research to write a persuasive –'  
  
'Cee? Would you relax?' he drawled boredly. 'I mean, come live in my head. It's lovely and mellow. And yellow, too.'  
  
His brain was made of . . . cheese?  
  
He must have terrible mice problems.  
  
'I'd hate to see what runs though your brain,' I said, in reference to the cheese thing. He raised an eyebrow, but then a corny grin claimed his face, and he burst into song, "If I only had a brain! Well, I would while away the hours, confirmin' with the flowers–' he sang loudly and proudly, prancing around in a pretty good impression of that Scarecrow guy from Wizard of Oz. You know, with the clumsiness and the manifest lack of coordination. You know, if the way he slipped on the tiles and landed on his butt was evidence enough.  
  
I snorted, and he beamed up at me.  
  
'If you only had a dick,' I said. 'Without it, well Adam, you haven't got a brain at all.'  
  
'Oi!' he snapped, 'Do I mock your lack of certain anatomical features? NO,' he replied.  
  
What was that supposed to mean?! I mean, sure, I didn't have a chest as impressive as Suze's, but I wasn't, well . . . without, or anything. I sneered at him, and displayed my dazzling intellect with a mighty fine 'Screw you.'  
  
He stood up, smirking at me. 'You'd like that, wouldn't you?' he demanded.  
  
I didn't get what he meant. 'Huh?'  
  
'To screw –'  
  
But thankfully, I was saved the embarrassment of denying this in outrage, by none other than the Femme Fatale herself.  
  
Suze Simon.  
  
'Hey,' she grinned at me, her curly dark hair falling down her shoulders. She was wearing a red cashmere sweater and black capris. Our school, the Mission Academy, had this stupid anti-jeans thing. It was kind of annoying, but at least it put a stop to Kelly Jelly-for-brains Prescott showing of her latest denim buys everyday. But whatever. I shrugged at her. 'Hey Simon.' I turned to Adam, and instantly felt very depressed.  
  
He had this playful little glint in his eyes, and he was smiling at Suze in a very insinuative way, like he'd like nothing better than to –  
  
Um, yeah. But as usual, Suze was totally oblivious to this. She looked around wearily, with a soft smile on her perfectly sculpted features. Her eyes shone, like vibrant green glitter. It wasn't fair. She got these totally beautiful eyes. And what did I get? Sun-sensitive purple ones. Oh, I'm so proud.  
  
Adam leered at her, as per usual. 'Hey Suze, nice sweater. But damn, it's just so suppressing.' He gave her a pout, and grinned at her wickedly.  
  
Suze raised her eyebrows cynically. 'Um . . . you really need a girlfriend, McTavish.' She shot me a warm look, to which I responded in with an accusing blush. She smirked at me.  
  
'Well, that was the point, Suze,' Adam grinned widely at her, crossing his arms in a really cute way. Well, not cute. No, not, um, cute. He was totally pissing me off. "Oh Suze, how high should I jump? Can I tickle your tummy? Do you want me to drool just a little bit, or a lot?" It was gross. You could totally tell that he wanted her.  
  
It kind of hurt me, the fact that he was just so blind.  
  
Like, hello? Honey, I'm standing right here?!  
  
Instead, I just settled for whacking him hard over the head. He jumped in shock, and his hand shot to the base of his neck. 'Whoa! Ow, God CeeCee!' he yelled, falling away from me in offense. I rolled my eyes at him, and sniffed at Suze.  
  
'Jesus, Cee! Easy with the PMS, okay?' he groaned.  
  
Suze snorted, but gave me a straight face when I glared at her. Oooh, this was awkward. But what? She was SO siding with him. Playing with him, knowing that she had him around her little finger.  
  
While I was left there, completely, um, little-fingerless.  
  
'That was actually my next instinct, Adam,' Suze drawled, shifting her weight onto her left leg so her hip stuck out in this total "Get me while I'm hot!" pose. 'Thumping you, I mean. I think I'm affected by PMS twenty- four seven.'  
  
'Moody bitch, and still attractive,' said Adam in delight, beaming at her with clasped hands.  
  
'No, run. Run now. While there's still time,' she urged, tossing her deep brown curls casually.  
  
Oh, this was sad. In a corridor, just before school started, discussing PMS. Oh, captivating, really. Kindly observe how privileged I feel, not? I mean, you do NOT want your all-time crush picking up on your less-than benign tendencies, let me tell you now. It's not cool. It was embarrassing. And he was gabbing to SUZE of all people about it. Floor, be generous. Eat me now . . . yeah. Now would be good.  
  
Feeling weird, and pissed at the both of them, I turned around and shuffled to my locker to grab my textbooks for the day. Classes were about to start. And I needed to look at something that would stare back at me and underestimate me. I didn't want to see the two of them so friendly.  
  
I grabbed out my Chemistry book hurriedly, and flicked through it to find a page that was less condescending. Aaah, there we go. Periodic table. I could memorize that. Lovely.  
  
Hydrogen.  
  
Helium.  
  
Lithium  
  
Beryllium  
  
Boron  
  
Carb –  
  
'Oh, great. She finds elements more fascinating than us. We're flattered, really,' Adam growled. 'We're not up there with americium, are we? And your good ol' buddy, fluorine? Live a little, Cee. Jesus . . .'  
  
I glared at him angrily. He was teasing me for being smart. What? It was embarrassing, just standing there. At least I could hide behind my books. Hide in the pages of knowledge and facts. Hide my freakishly white hair, and my beady, sun-delicate eyes. I felt a lingering blush creep onto my face, and Suze gave me a sympathetic look, smiling in clemency.  
  
Her eyes twinkled magically. I felt a pang on envy . . . why couldn't I have eyes like that?  
  
'Aaah, Cee. Question?' Adam piped up, leaning against my locker and shutting my locker door pointedly do I couldn't bury myself away in more volumes, 'I was wondering, when you fart, is it carbon dioxide, or oxygen still? I mean, breathing is carbon dioxide, but farting ain't breathing. And while most farts are totally unbreathable – well, mine are – are they still oxygen? I mean, you'd know,' he shrugged, keeping his face perfectly straight, his straight brown hair falling into his impish eyes.  
  
Suze elbowed him 'He means, you'd know because you're a genius. Not because you fart a lot, CeeCee.'  
  
Adam pulled a face. 'Nah, I meant the farting thing,' he nodded indifferently to Suze, who rolled her eyes. He stuck out his tongue at her, and crossed his arms against my locker. I flushed a little more.  
  
My mouth set in an angry line. 'Yeah, Adam. Bringing us back to our little theory of you being an immature idiot. I mean, sparing thought on what type of gas a fart is? That's totally sad, McTavish. Your personal best. And by the way . . .' I added in a mumble, 'I think it's methane. Not oxygen.'  
  
Suze snorted.  
  
That was when Adam jumped forward and brazenly threw both his arms around mine and Suze's and pulled us in so all of our heads just about bashed together. Suze gasped sharply, and so did I . . . but for a completely different reason to her.  
  
But damn it.  
  
'Aaah,' he proclaimed in a voice burdened with lazy satisfaction, 'this is the life. Parleying the amazing concept of flatulence on a cool Friday morning. And Suze is wearing a really hot sweater. And I'm childish. And I smell really good. Life is fine, my dear ladies.' He beamed ahead at nothing in particular, still cradling my face whimsically with his warm hands. Oh, what I wouldn't have given for him to be doing that under totally different circumstances . . .  
  
Suze's forehead was kind of squashed against his chin. 'Um . . . let go, much? Ew, Adam. Who knows where your hands have been.'  
  
Adam, looking scandalized, shoved both of us away in mock outrage. 'I wash them afterwards, Suze, I swear!' he declared.  
  
Oh my God . . . do not explore the questionable hazards of that statement . . .  
  
Suze was grossed out.  
  
'Okay . . . ' she said slowly, stepping back with a grimace, 'I'm going to . . . um, go. You can, er, stay here Cee, and have a jolly chat with Mr McTavish about the wondrous joys of farting and possible masturbation.'  
  
I burst out laughing.  
  
She was now horrified with herself. 'I just said that, didn't I? Oh my God, I did . . .' She scowled scarily at Adam, 'you TOTALLY bring out the worst in me!'  
  
Adam looked completely smug. 'And you love it . . . '  
  
Suze scoffed at him, and gave her hair a trademark toss. The curls picked up the dull morning light to gorgeous effect. That was, of course, when Paul Slater sidled up behind her, grinning in this totally weird way. 'Hey, Suze,' he whispered into her hair.  
  
I stared in fascination as Suze completely jumped, and jerked away from him. Whoa . . . Suze, scared? That was new.  
  
'Hey, weren't you suspended or something?' Adam said coldly. He obviously could feel the friction between the tall, tanned new guy and his blatantly obvious crush. He stepped forward, looking meanly at Paul.  
  
I backed him up with some mild glaring. I mean, come on. This was they guy that totally almost beat us in the Student Government thing. He would have whipped our asses, we all knew it, if he hadn't have been suspended at the very last minute for saying that, um, that thing to the novice. What he said to Kelly, well, that was fine. Any humiliation she undergoes is A-okay with me. In fact, I was kind of cheering for him when that was betiding, but the little Vice President conflict was still fresh in our minds. But really, there was no doubt that Paul was one of the hottest guys to ever set foot in the Mission Academy. Six something feet of strong, muscular perfection, with a mysterious appeal to him, light eyes that hid secrets from everyone, and a smile that would make any woman with eyes melt. I mean, he was even affecting me.  
  
And I'm not usually falling over people, ever. But still. It just further proved the fact that Suze got all the luck. She had everything a girl could ever dream of. Sizzling guys chasing after her, back and fourth, power in her school, the looks, the atttude. And me? I had ultra-white hair.  
  
Suze's grin dropped like a hot potato.  
  
Paul stood taller, and smirked at Adam. 'Finished yesterday. I'm back, and I'm ready to pick up where I left off,' he added hintingly to Suze, who looked suddenly very pale. Adam was staring at Paul in not such a nice way, but I was staring at Suze. The happy smile that had been on her face had now been replaced with an expression of random dread. Had . . . had something happened with them? I gazed at her even more intently  
  
Suze stared at the floor. 'Um, Cee, I'll um, see you later.' She walked away quickly, and with no more than a shrug, Paul quickly followed after her with a sinister gleam in his eyes.  
  
Okay, that was weird . . .  
  
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Okay, chapter one. This isn't going to be a terrifyingly long story, so yeah. PLEASE REVIEW, NICE AND LONG!!! Criticism or praise, we totally don't mind.  
  
Love Kat and Lolly,  
  
Aka Angelic Halo and MystAngel. 


	2. Green Eyes

Whoa . . . way to rebound, Lolly.  
  
We're back! Kat and Lolly, here to terrorize. I think this is a very good effort on my part, because, well . . . gah, don't be modest . . .  
  
I PASSED OUT YESTERDAY.  
  
TWICE.  
  
RUSHED TO HOSPITAL. Eugh, not cool. Guys? If they say that they have to put a drip on you, say NO! I DO NOT WANT A HIDOUS BRUISE ON MY – get this – TYPING HAND!  
  
Nurses these days . . . no appreciation for the art of Fanfiction. Tut.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
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Bah, recess at last. I'd just had to sit through the most boring History class ever. Not that I don't like history, hell no. Love it. But when you have to copy out the names of convicts that were shipped from France to America in the early fifteen hundreds, well, your brain would be leaking out of your ears too. So yeah, even us nerds can be bored. I could actually feel my brain turning to a greenish-brown sludge-like substance.  
  
Only, that recess thing? Yeah, not for me. Nup, I had Literature next, and damn it, I had an essay to hand in. Minimum five pages. And I hadn't even started it. Now it is NOT like me to fall behind. No way. I'm usually on top of everything. I pride myself on my marks and stuff.  
  
But I dunno. I haven't been feeling that "on top" lately. At all. In fact, I was lingering on the lowest rung of life's ladder.  
  
And it sucked. Oh boy, it did.  
  
So that was why I was still cooped up in an empty classroom during our daily twenty minutes of freedom. I had to discuss the motivations for . . . um . . . some Shakespearean guy or other . . . oh yeah. Hamlet. Aw, man, I hadn't even READ the text I was supposed to be babbling about. THIS WAS NOT GOOD.  
  
Cee? See the F? That's your paper. Get ready for it.  
  
I sat at one of the corner tables, tapping my pencil madly on the desk, trying to force my mind to come up with something or other about . . . something or other. Hamlet. Who cared? Sorry, but, who cared about Hamlet, and Ophelia, and . . . GAH, who else was in that stupid play?!  
  
I leant back in the chair, glaring at the roof. I was going to fail. I couldn't even get Adam, my best friend, so how could I do this even?  
  
It was DUE IN NEXT PERIOD.  
  
I lay my head on in my arms, feeling a rush of panic and depression.  
  
Why was it so cold?  
  
I couldn't write five pages in now - I checked my watch - fifteen minutes! Oh, crap. I felt myself starting to panic. Mr Henry would be totally disappointed with me. "This isn't like you, CeeCee." Or worse . . . "I'm going to have to fail you in Lit. You can't cut it."  
  
Or the worst . . .  
  
"Susannah Simon just asked Adam McTavish out, and he said yes. Isn't that glorious, CeeCee? . . . CeeCee?"  
  
'CeeCee? CeeCee Webb, right?'  
  
I sat up abruptly. Oh no, I'd been dozing! What, was this the teacher from the next class, coming to tell me to WAKE UP AND GET THE HELL OUT OF HER CLASSROOM . . . or just to quietly leave? I jerked up blearily, looking around in alarm. 'Sorry! I fell asleep, I'll go -'  
  
'I thought it was you. Yeah . . . not that many albinos at the Mission. Funny that,' drawled that I recognized, to my irritation.  
  
Paul Slater.  
  
Tall, dark, handsome Paul Slater. My momentary hero of a couple of weeks ago, when he dissed Kelly Prescott. Arch nemesis in the Vice President thing. The only thing that Suze was scared of. Which is saying a LOT. I kind of swallowed when I saw him there . . .  
  
Again, I quickly looked at my watch . . . it had only been another five minutes! There was still ten, to write -  
  
A whole five pages?  
  
Face it, Cee. You are screwed.  
  
I glared at Paul. 'I'm kind of busy,' I snapped.  
  
What? That Student Government thing had me PISSED, okay? Excuse ME for being hostile, but when you get into politics . . . you'll understand, okay?  
  
'Yeah, I noticed. Working on that snore takes a lot of concentration,' he nodded seriously, sitting on the desk in front of me. I shifted back a little, feeling nervous all of a sudden. This was . . . a guy. A very good- looking guy at that. Within ten meters of me, no less. And more still, looking at me. Me, the albino.  
  
Not Suze, the babe.  
  
I blinked at him. 'Er . . . hi.'  
  
He smiled down at me, and I noted with approval - okay, maybe a little admiration - that his hair looked perfect, even in the dim light of the room.  
  
Adam's was always a mess.  
  
'Hi,' he said.  
  
I stared at him. What was he doing here? Why wasn't he chasing after Suze, as per usual?  
  
'Um . . . you want anything, at all?' I asked with a weird look.  
  
His eyes seemed to flash a little there, with some vagueness. 'Actually, yeah. I was hoping that I could catch you alone.'  
  
My heart skipped a beat.  
  
'Er . . . '  
  
He seemed to find my very critical case of er-ititis kind of funny. If the way he grinned more widely was any indication. Again, I felt myself flush. Aw, crap.  
  
I was blushing. CeeCee Webb does not blush.  
  
And the worst thing, on my skin, it's kind of obvious? Yeah.  
  
Paul leaned in a little closer to me, and I swallowed. Hard. My white hair fell by my face, and I went kind of cold with nerves. 'I wanted to ask you about . . . Suze.'  
  
. . . Suze?  
  
'Oh.'  
  
Yeah, I'll admit it. I was kind of . . . you know, put out. You know? That he was asking for Suze, I mean. Because yeah, I already knew that it's Suze that everyone wants. But . . . well, I just thought that maybe . . . when he said "alone" that he . . . anyone might want to say something to me.  
  
But no.  
  
They wanted to talk about Suze.  
  
It was always Suze.  
  
As I inwardly groaned for my pathetic woes, I forced out a half smile. 'Sorry, I don't know where she is. She's not here. So, yeah.'  
  
His gaze . . . wow. It was so . . . intense. The irises of his eyes looked like they'd been had sculpted from thousands of tiny ice shards. They made me feel kind of prickly along my neck. 'Uh, I noticed that.'  
  
Yeah, Cee. He noticed that, you loser.  
  
Again, I blinked at him. 'Er . . . well, what then?' I shuffled in my chair, and looked with disappointment down at my blank page. It had my name in a hurried scrawl at the top, and the date opposite that. Other than that, it was empty. A white, empty space.  
  
What I felt like, half the time.  
  
Only having my name, and my whiteness.  
  
He cocked his head to the side, staring at me. It was kind of freaking me out. I'm not used to people staring at me, you know? Especially guys. So, whether it was because I had a huge pimple on my face, or I had suddenly become dazzlingly attractive, I wasn't to know. Because he opened his mouth - wow, even his lips were perfect - and said in a voice like tame, soft thunder, 'Well . . . I think that you and I both know that I have a thing for Suze.'  
  
Yeah, Cee. A thing for Suze. Don't sound so disappointed.  
  
'Yeah,' I said coolly - well, I thought it sounded cool, sue me? - 'I picked up on that.'  
  
He grinned. 'And, I was kind of hoping that you could, you know? Give me some - '  
  
Tongue?  
  
' - Inside information.'  
  
Oh.  
  
Ew, I'm such a loser. No, I wouldn't have kissed him. Icky, ew. But . . . it would have been sweet to ask, you know? To give me the satisfaction of slapping him and all, and saying, "No! My heart - and my tongue - belongs to Adam dearest, you will never have me! Or my . . . er, tongue . . . "  
  
Whoa. Even my thoughts are lame.  
  
I raised my eyebrows at him. 'Uh . . . I think that as the loyal friend, I'm not supposed to do that. Suze really, really doesn't like you.'  
  
Paul's look hardened. 'That's what I'm trying to change,' he said.  
  
And if I'm not mistaken, I could have SWORN that I heard a very subtle threat in his tone. Who was HE to threaten ME?! Um, rude?  
  
Well, I wasn't telling him anything about Suze. He could go screw hims-  
  
'I really shouldn't,' I said quickly, starting to get annoyed. Okay, freaked. I mean, seriously. Comes in here, interrupts my - not so active - essay writing . . . okay, my sleep, and demands Susie gossip? Um . . . no.  
  
'Look,' he said, standing up again, so he was looking right down at me. I felt my eyebrows shoot up in something like alarm. His bottom lip looked determined and yeah, choleric too. 'All I want is to know some stuff. I'm not going to stalk her or anything, God.' He then made my breathing quicken, as he bent forward, rested his hands over my blank essay paper, and leaned very close to me.  
  
Argh, this wasn't good.  
  
His eyes narrowed at me a little, and he seemed to be searching . . . narcotizing me. I felt a strange tingle in my head, and kind of felt . . . you know . . . dizzy . . .  
  
And then, I realized that, hey, it wouldn't be so bad to tell him everything he wanted to know . . . laah. No big, right?  
  
'All I want you to say,' he said with a kind of sensual melody in his tone, 'Is . . . has she said anything about me?'  
  
Ugh, dizzy . . .  
  
I blinked up at him. 'Yeah . . . stuff.'  
  
. . . Dizzier . . .  
  
He smiled slightly. 'I thought as much,' he said, and his eyes raked over my face. 'What did she say?'  
  
Feeling extremely light-headed by then, I frowned a bit. 'She said that . . . well, she hates you. And she said something about Jesse.'  
  
His eyes kind of flashed darkly then, and I felt a jolt in my head. I winced and held my forehead quickly.  
  
'Sorry,' he said in a throw-away manner.  
  
'For what?' I wanted to know.  
  
'Uh . . . nothing.'  
  
This was confusing . . . Aw, man . . . I felt kind of giddy. Like, I'd just fallen a hundred meters, and I had stopped very quickly. 'What did she say about Jesse?' he urged on.  
  
I frowned some more, and stared at his darkly tanned hands that were still over my yet-to-be-written essay. 'Why should I tell you -'  
  
'Because,' he said, 'I think I have a right to know.'  
  
'And why is that?' I hissed at him icily.  
  
'Well, I really want to get back into her good books. I kind of screwed up when she came over to my house that time. She's a great kisser, if you wanted to know. Not that you would . . . she's probably too – feminine for your liking,' he smiled, looking kind of smug.  
  
Suze . . . oh my God . . .  
  
My eyes widened as I looked elsewhere. Suze had . . . they'd done –  
  
Argh, shut up, Cee.  
  
But . . . whoa . . . I never thought that they'd – that Suze would just – with Paul.  
  
Whoa.  
  
THAT was why Suze hated him?! What, too SMALL?!  
  
EWW! STOP THINKING, damn it!  
  
'Look at me,' he murmured. With a glare, my eyes snapped back to his, and - aaah . . . I really need to get more sleep. I couldn't go to school feeling all fuzzy like this, it wasn't good. I sure as hell couldn't write essays, when I could barely think . . .  
  
My vision kind of swam . . . his face seemed to jump all around, first left, then diagonally right, the up, then swept up in blackness . . . and then in front of me again . . .  
  
Ow.  
  
His eyes narrowed at me a little . . . 'I'll ask again. What did she say about Jesse?'  
  
With a very dim-witted expression, I said, sounding extremely drunk, 'She said that you were trying to break them up. And that she hated you. And that she hoped your nose really ached.'  
  
His eyes flickered a little, and I felt my mind whir. Like something from inside was prodding my brain. Poke, poke . . .  
  
'What else? Has she said anything else about me?' he demanded, leaning a little closer.  
  
I could feel his breath on my face now . . . and all I wanted to do was sleep. I tell you, if Adam ever declares his undying love for me, I'm so going to just look at him and start snoring, aren't I?  
  
'She said that . . . you were the person she trusted least in the world, and that she didn't want to speak to you again after what you did,' I droned on. Man, I'm a bore. Any second, PAUL will be asleep.  
  
' . . . And?' he pressed on.  
  
I blinked, oh so intelligently, and kept staring . . . wow, his eyes were cool . . . they kind of glowed blue, and stuff . . . like they were a x-ray machine. I felt like I was being invaded or something. I know, I'm a loser. But his gaze . . . that's just how it made me feel. Like, I could tell him any secret. Like I could trust him.  
  
But Suze didn't trust him.  
  
Hell, Cee . . . When are you going to realize that Suze is NOT the hear all and end all of your life? Just because she had a problem with this guy, didn't mean that you couldn't trust him. So what about the Student Government thing? Maybe there was a misunderstanding or something? Right? I could give him the benefit of the doubt, couldn't I? Paul Slater, right now, seemed . . . sincere.  
  
And all I could do was blink at him like a slack-jawed loser.  
  
Man, I suck at first impressions, and all impressions after that.  
  
'She . . . hasn't said anything else,' I whispered to him, feeling lighter . . . and lighter . . . I felt like a bubble, and I was floating in the breeze . . . just waiting to pop of a blade of glass or something.  
  
Lighter . . . lighter . . .  
  
'Are you sure?' he implored, watching me with more intensity.  
  
And lighter . . .  
  
'Yeah,' I breathed, 'I'm sorry, I don't know anything else about -'  
  
My bubble popped.  
  
I plummeted back down to earth with a horrible rush. Like, all the blood had come back to my head, very suddenly. DAMN, it hurt!  
  
'Ow . . . ' I massaged my knuckles on both of my temples, 'Sorry . . . headache . . . '  
  
He smirked at me, looking . . . well, kind of disappointed. 'Yeah, I have that effect on people.' His eyes twinkled secretively. That bluish glow was gone . . . but his eyes were still so occult, and hypnotic . . .  
  
Adam's looked like he'd just heard a bad joke all the time. Hazel, and boring. They didn't mesmerize me, by any means. They were just Adam's eyes.  
  
I swallowed hard, realizing with a jolt, how close his face was . . . so close I could just lean forward and -  
  
He pulled back.  
  
I felt strange . . . really strange. Like I was half stoned or something . . . Or, half alive. Eeek. Go the soul sucking conspiracy, Cee. Paul sat on the desk in front of mine again, looking half satisfied with himself. 'So,' he said boredly, 'What are you doing?'  
  
I looked down at my blank page and – OH NO! I ONLY HAD ANOTHER THREE MINUTES!  
  
'Oh my God, look, you need to go, I have to write this before next period, or I am so dead,' I burbled in a frenzy, snatching up my pen. My palms felt all clammy . . . and I just felt flushed in general.  
  
He looked at me with a mixture of boredom and sympathy. 'Oh, okay . . . what you gotta do?'  
  
A feeling of hysteria rose in my stomach, and I felt myself starting to really seriously panic.  
  
'A five paged essay on Hamlet for Lit. that I have to -' I stopped, and glared at him, 'Why am I telling you this?'  
  
He shrugged, with a decisive smirk. 'You tell me.'  
  
And then . . . oh my GOD, humiliation at its worst . . . I just . . . fell face first onto my desk, taking a siesta.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------  
  
I couldn't believe it! Falling asleep in front of a hot guy who's trying to find out about your best friend is NEVER good. But I did.  
  
I don't know why, or hell . . . HOW, but I did. Like, someone had tranquilized me or something. Only . . . I wasn't asleep for very long at all . . . when I woke up, I found myself very, VERY confused.  
  
Only about half a minute had passed, judging by my watch . . . but, as I peeled my face off the desk, I found myself staring at - no, not Paul, he wasn't there at all - a six page essay, written in my handwriting.  
  
. . . What the . . . ?  
  
I blinked in surprise, and scanned the page . . . whoa. This was stuff I didn't even KNOW. Who the hell was "Polonius"?  
  
Was I on CRACK?  
  
I frowned very heavily . . . maybe, um . . . maybe I'd written the essay, and had DREAMED that Paul was there . . .  
  
WHY AM I DREAMING ABOUT PAUL SLATER?!?!  
  
Oh, crap. This wasn't good -  
  
Hang on. It was. Well, half good, anyway. My essay was done.  
  
That's all that mattered at the moment . . .  
  
I read it all very quickly, marveling at my own intelligence. Ha, half these words I didn't even know. Maybe I was just really . . . tired. Or had been hearing them on subliminal tapes, like Homer did on that episode of the Simpsons, the one to increase his vocabulary . . .  
  
That episode that I'd watched at Adam's house . . .  
  
Still feeling kind of freaked, I looked at my watch – ARGH! Lit. like, NOW.  
  
Scrambling up, I staggered out the door – the open door. The one that I had made a point in closing when I had come into the classroom, as to block out the distracting sound effects of random jock punch-ups and squealing girls, blubbering about their latest woes of being dumped.  
  
So why was it open?  
  
. . . Oh, God. This was too much. I was groggy. I did NOT need to be thinking so much. My essay was – if I do say so myself – exceptional. I had done my thinking. I wanted to just stop it now. Stop it before I got thinking about . . .  
  
Paul.  
  
. . . .Crap. Too late.  
  
There was something that was bothering me. What right did I have to be dreaming about Paul Slater?! The guy that made Susannah Simon shiver? That I was supposed to hate, for almost beating us to Vice Presidency? This wasn't good, it really wasn't. I liked Adam. So why was I getting all, you know, flushed, just thinking about this intrusive new guy?  
  
Not the foggiest. Please tell me?  
  
Aww, man. This wasn't good. So yeah, Adam was kind of taking a while to realize that I loved him soulfully, but . . . I didn't have to have lustful – okay, slightly boring – dreams about other guys, right? It was WRONG.  
  
And SECONDLY – even though I AM fully aware that it was just a dream – where did I get off, telling Paul about Suze? And don't tell me that my dream was really just a message, of how I was feeling at the moment, and that I could only trust outsiders, or whatever. I don't go for the astrological, new age crap. Sorry, I don't. I like what is documented and signed by authorized people, proving something to be real, with evidence and certainty.  
  
. . . So why was I thinking that Paul's hair was gorgeous? That it would be sooo good for him to just grab me around the waist and slam me against the lockers in the locker room and just –  
  
Oh MAN. I need therapy! Argh, help!  
  
This was bad. This was really bad. Why did my life suck? Why did I have to get all uncertain, at a time where I truly needed to be certain of my goals, and my life? Why did Paul have to start looking so hot? And why did it look like his nose had never really been broken, even though it had been? Was it that plastic surgeon father of his? Is THAT why he looked so perfect?!  
  
Adam's nose has been broken twice. First he fell of the see-saw, and then Brad Ackerman punched him for Adam calling him a loser when Brad teased my freakiness aka albino appearance.  
  
So his nose isn't the prettiest in the pageant, basically. It kind of flattened a teeny bit at the bridge. Why did I care? I mean, I've dealt with it for like, all my life, so why was it suddenly bothering me so much? That little flat bit? I mean, he got that flat bit for ME.  
  
. . . What was it about Paul Slater that was so . . . appealing? Was it because he was so dark? Such a mystery? Something made me really, really crave to solve that mystery . . .  
  
But what about ADAM?  
  
. . . He had his chance. Git that he is . . . not my fault he didn't know what he had till it was gone. Well . . . almost had. He didn't exactly have anything. He didn't even WANT anything.  
  
Then again, neither did Paul Slater.  
  
Wrong again. Adam and Paul? They both wanted Suze.  
  
Suze, Suze, Suze. Vice President of the sophomore class, Susannah Simon. "Oh look at my beautiful curly chocolate locks and my glittering emerald eyes and my killer figure and in one second flat I'd drop you all to join the renowned Prescott posse of bitches" Suze.  
  
Oh my God . . . I think it's ME who has the green eyes.  
  
I'm a green-eyed monster . . .  
  
Shit.  
  
Feeling very low, then, I grabbed my five textbooks from my locker, and ran to Lit. with my fool-proof essay.  
  
God, I'm good.  
  
And yet, at the same time, bad.  
  
Half-and-half.  
  
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Love Kat and Lolly.  
  
PLEASE REVIEW!!! OOOH, what's with CeeCee and her Paul thoughts? ARGH. 


	3. Slow Smiles

Kat: Hey there! I've hijacked the A/N this chapter. Since some people were a bit confused about Paul's 'Jedi Mind Trick' as NiceHayley put it, I'm here to explain! Aren't you lucky!  
  
Well, basically, Paul used mind control to get CeeCee to tell him about Suze.. And apparently Paul made her fall asleep because he can have instant power over consciousness of non-mediator/shifters. And he is more powerful than Suze, so she can't do it yet. Well according to Lolly anyway. Then he wrote her essay for her.  
  
Lolly: Isn't he a sweetie?  
  
Kat: Shut up, this is MY spotlight. Well... Thanks for the reviews.  
  
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My head was pounding. I didn't know why. I didn't have a clue why I suddenly had a mad, pulsating headache. I mean, I hadn't exactly strained my brain, right? That essay . . . the one on the Hamlet thing? I honestly could not remember writing it, and I was kind of freaked out that I'd used the word "psychosomatic". What does that word MEAN? I mean, I am a brain. I should know. I obviously do, because I wrote it in my essay, but . . . I really DIDN'T know what it was. It reminded me of the word "asthmatic." Which was kind of how I felt at that moment. You know, short of breath and light-headed.  
  
I just didn't know WHY.  
  
And believe me, not knowing? That is bad for me. I like to know. I like to know exactly what is going on, and when I don't know, I get irritable and frustrated and angry.  
  
And I didn't know.  
  
Hence the moodiness.  
  
Mr Henry, my Lit. teacher, was – needless to say – impressed with my essay. Well, what he read of it. He has a thing of reading some peoples' introductions as he's collecting up essays. You know, just to say, "Not good enough. Do it again,' and stuff. Not that he's ever said that to me. Because, like I said, I am a brain. I know my stuff. Which was what made it so bad this time, how I didn't know this. I didn't know what was going on at all. It felt like I'd been in a coma, and I'd woken up and so many things had happened while I was dead to the world.  
  
I mean, hello? I hadn't even read the play of Hamlet. All I knew, basically, was that the playwright was Shakespeare. Oh, go me. The rest of the story, was all a blank.  
  
I couldn't remember a thing.  
  
But yeah, enough of that. Mr Henry was content with my work, so yay. Give me a prize.  
  
I just, you know, hate being lost in thought, or confused. It makes me wonder if someone's slipping anything into my soda, you know? I know, conspiracy theory much? But that's how I felt. Like I was being drugged to feel all fuzzy. Because, seriously, I'm one of the most down-to-Mars girls you'll ever meet. I have both feet firmly on the ground, thank you.  
  
Nope, no fairies or Santa or ghosts for me.  
  
Which leads me on to Jesse.  
  
I really don't understand why I asked – no, TOLD Suze that Jesse was a ghost. She called me nuts, but something flashed in her eyes. And I knew I'd hit the jackpot. She was one of those people thingies, those mediums, who could speak to the dead.  
  
It's so, so weird.  
  
But that's the only way that it can be explained.  
  
And that's the thing. I made her promise to explain it to me. She said that she would someday. Only, whenever I go to ask her about him, she always changes the topic. It's making me very miffed, of late. How she just doesn't care how I'm feeling, you know, all bewildered and ignorant.  
  
I don't LIKE not knowing! And she's not telling me ANYTHING.  
  
All I know is, Jesse's dead. And I don't know why, or how Suze can see him. I mean, is it really possible that certain people are born with – what, a second sight and hearing, to be able to see and converse with spirits? How is that possible? Is it something psychological? Why can't I see them? Why can Suze? Is it something to do with cleverness? Because, God knows, Suze isn't the shiniest pebble. I mean, she's people smart, not book smart. I'm the nerd, not her. So, that can't be it, or I'd be RAISING the dead.  
  
Not to boast, or anything. But I kind of pride myself on being intellectual, you know? It's my thing. Just like being pretty and popular is Suze's thing.  
  
God, if she knew how I'd love to trade . . .  
  
I know better than to dwell on things that I can't have, though. I know that some people are just born with things that others don't have.  
  
Ha. Like this ghost thing.  
  
But anyway . . . no more thinking. My brain's hurting . . .  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------  
  
Mr Henry had just let us all go from Lit. Sorry to say, but I still felt like I was high, high, high in the sky. Blah. You know, Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds, the works. Oh well, whatever. I had Religion now, with - oh joy, Sister Ernestine. I knew that Suze and Adam were both in that class, so I wasn't too fussed over it. I'd just sit by them and, well, you know, not learn.  
  
As you may have guessed, I really don't like Religion. Um, a GOD? Yeah, I'm so sure. What, and the world was created in Seven Days? Adam and Eve? Hahaha, yeah, like that happened. Um, no. Not when you have physical evidence to prove the existence of dinosaurs and stuff, and hello? Big Bang Theory much? I think that it is scientifically safe to say that Christianity is a load of crap.  
  
People with Leprosy do NOT get healed by some bearded guy who claims to be the son of some big guy.  
  
It just doesn't happen, okay? It doesn't.  
  
Aaah, and yet, lately I've been more inclined to believe in the existence of ghosts. What can I say? I need help. I really, really do. I'm not even sure if I believe Suze, anymore. I mean, maybe I was just . . . drunk. Even though I don't actually drink, you never know? Someone might have slipped me a tequila when I wasn't paying attention.  
  
You know, due to Paul Slater going mental and stuff.  
  
And so yeah. Paul is incurably insane.  
  
Argh . . . why do the insane guys have to be hot?  
  
How come I'm THINKING about hotness? Ugh, I'm CeeCee. I'm not Suze. I don't think that corpses are sexy. I don't think that annoying, tall hot guys with icy blue eyes are sexy either. Despite previous adjectives used to describe said tall hot guy.  
  
We must accept this. I really suck.  
  
Well, anyway. I strutted quickly to Religion, along the corridor, but accidentally smacked into two of the jocks, Brad and Scott. Brad happened to be Suze's stepbrother - lucky her - and Scott, well, he was just an asshole. Really. He went out of his way to make lives hell. And mine was commonly a target, due to my being a freak. You know, the albino thing...  
  
'Hey white-dork, don't trip,' guffawed Brad snidely, as he stuck out his foot. Before I could stop myself, my whole world lurched forward, and all of my books dropped out of my hands as I hurriedly threw them out - my hands, I mean - to break the impending fall. I was sprawled on the ground. Brad and Scott started sniggering boisterously, and they wandered away, throwing me condescending looks.  
  
'Let's leave her out in the sun for three hours tomorrow,' I heard Scott sneer spitefully as they were exited the scene quickly.  
  
I sat on the floor, staring after them sadly . . . this was the burden I beared. I mean, generally the offshoot of being albino, is the racism. Or discrimination. Call it whatever you want . . . I hate it. I hate it so much . . .  
  
Especially when it's the jocks who do it. God knows I'd hate to be popular, but I am already considered a huge freak because I know all the states of America, backwards and forwards. What? Is it such a crime? So, now I'm a nerdy freak. And I pay for my knowledge . . .  
  
I was late for class. Religion had started a minute ago. But I just sat there for a few more moments, just blinking slowly.  
  
God . . . I am aware of how random this is, but . . . I'd love to be Suze. Her life must be cheese cake compared to this. She was liked. That was what I wanted so much. I mean, popularity isn't the most important thing, but respect is something that everyone deserves. Even me. The albino. Yeah, funny concept, huh?  
  
Slowly, with a sigh, I gathered up my textbooks, and all the pages that were now littered a meter away from me. Kind of swallowing down an annoyed - okay, upset - shout, I stood up, brushing back a few strands of hair that had escaped my tight ponytail. I think that it is totally useless, having hair out and wild like Kelly Prescott does. Like, who know? Someone could get mad and just . . . Well, you know, make with the scissors and chop.  
  
Not that anyone would be brave enough to touch Kelly's hair, dumb blond that she is. She'd totally freak at them. Which, you know, makes the whole idea kind of appealing to me. Kelly's like, another highly status individual who has sought to make me suffer. I don't mind quite as much.  
  
When I intellectually insult her back, it's kind of satisfying to see her go ". . . what the . . . ?!" when she doesn't know what the hell I'm talking about. Which, majority of the time, she doesn't.  
  
Ugh . . . ANYWAY. I was late to Religion. I came to the door, looking - I believe - flushed, and I went to sit next to Suze, but -  
  
Paul was sitting there.  
  
On the other side was Adam.  
  
Oh, fabulous.  
  
'Miss Webb?' demanded Sister Ernestine icily, 'What time do you call this?'  
  
I shrugged meekly, 'The time that I showed up?'  
  
Her face darkened. 'You are late. I am afraid that I'll have to give you a detention for that, it's five minutes into the lesson and I am a person who strongly believes in punctuality. See me after school. Now sit down next to Mr Slater.'  
  
I blanched. D - detention? Me?! Oh no, no, no . . .  
  
I couldn't get a detention! No, no way. I hadn't gotten one since seventh grade when I purposely put too much pepper on Debbie Mancuso's sandwich in Home Economics and she pretended to have an allergic reaction! I couldn't just get a detention, especially for something that was my fault! And I couldn't be known as someone who got detentions ever five seconds, no WAY.  
  
Oh crap . . .  
  
'Sister,' I said evenly, 'It wasn't my fault that I was late, I -'  
  
'Do you have a hall pass?' she interrogated, her bushy eyebrows raised at me menacingly. I shook my head and went to speak, but she gave me a glare. 'I believe I asked you to take a seat, Miss Webb. Or shall we extend this detention?'  
  
'Sister Ernestine, that's not fair.'  
  
Oh, no. That wasn't me saying that.  
  
That was Suze.  
  
She was giving the old nun a cool, arrogant kind of look, as if she was about to threaten to break HER fingers too, like she did on her first day. Sister Ernestine turned back to Suze, eyeing her accusingly. 'Pardon me, Miss Simon?'  
  
Suze shifted in her chair calmly. Paul, I noticed, was smirking at her secretively. Adam was looking outraged with Sister Ernestine as well.  
  
'I said,' Suze stated, flicking back her hair with an indignant flare in her eyes, 'That's not fair. You didn't even hear her out. She may have a very valid reason for being, um, late, you know, and you just go jumping to conclusions and giving capital - I mean, corporal punishment.'  
  
I stared at her. Suze? What are you doing? You're gonna get me in deeper . . . Don't . . .  
  
Sister Ernestine then stood up, looking fed up. 'Miss Simon, I would appreciate it if you would not challenge my judgment. Please remain silent. Miss Webb's detention will remain. That is the last I will hear of it. I have a class to teach.'  
  
Great. Juuuuuust great.  
  
Kind of moodily, I sat down next to -  
  
Oh yeah. Paul. Yay.  
  
Not.  
  
This really wasn't good. I, CeeCee Webb, nerd, albino, general freak and Miss Goody-two-shoes, had a detention. I wasn't going to live this down. I didn't WANT a detention. I didn't want people thinking that I was unreliable, or irresponsible. I didn't want that at all.  
  
And yet, I didn't want to tall Suze that it was because of her stepbrother that I had earned it. Him and his stupid racist attitude.  
  
Aaah, well. Not like I can do anything about it now . . . I really didn't want to have to tell Ernie - as Adam has dubbed her - about my pathetic incapability to deal with losers who made fun of me.  
  
I hate being me.  
  
I really, really do.  
  
I dumped my books on the desk next to Paul Slater. He gave me a sideways book, looking momentarily at my books for some mysterious reason, and then turned to look back to Suze. She was giving me a very sympathetic look, but stopped when Paul went to lean in for a conversation. I still totally don't get what was so bad about him. I mean, really. He seemed okay. Like, nothing to be scared of.  
  
Sure, he was no kitten or anything. I mean, he didn't exactly meow. Ugh, whatever. Nah, he still had that threatening tone in his voice when he spoke, and that dark, enigmatic aura. And he seemed to have secrets that he hid from the world. Important secrets that he enjoyed to rub in peoples' faces, when they realized that they'd never find out . . .  
  
But other than that, he was just normal guy. Not a jock - he didn't tease me for the albino thing.  
  
But then he wasn't . . . you know . . . normal, either.  
  
'You've chosen to be seated, Miss Webb. Excellent decision,' Ernie said impassively. I refrained from giving her a glare, instead, looking nervously down at my books. 'Now, I believe that this lesson was planned to educate you all on our founder and patron saint, Junipero Serra.'  
  
The class groaned. I didn't. I didn't feel like making any noise.  
  
Sister Ernestine looked irritated.  
  
'There will be no complaints. It is in the school curriculum for you to learn about him, for he is a very important historical -'  
  
'And God help us if we stray form the curriculum,' Adam drawled.  
  
Ernie gave him a freezing glare - one that would cause an eighth grader to wet their pants. Adam, however, just shut his mouth. Which was more than you could say for Suze before . . . but no matter. The damage was done.  
  
She tried to help. I do appreciate that.  
  
Just like she did when I first met her . . .  
  
'Hush, all of you,' Ernie snapped. We all stopped mumbling, and she cleared her throat, coming to stand in front of her desk. She has been known to spit, so I was thanking God that I wasn't in the first row.  
  
'Junipero Serra, also known as Miguel Jose Serra, was an apostle of California,' she began in a slurred drone.  
  
'He entered the Franciscan University at Palma at age 15, and joined the Order at age 17, taking the name Junipero after the friend of Saint Francis. Ordained in 1737, and taught philosophy and theology at the Lullian University . . . '  
  
Oh, man, who CARES?  
  
Look, I worship history as much as the next aspiring journalist. But come on. Give me a break?  
  
This guy was holy for, what? Making a bunch of peaceful, calm Native Americans change their religion? So what?  
  
Okay, call me pissed off because of my unjust punishment, but hello? What was the point of NAMING A SCHOOL after this dude? Really.  
  
And on she went . . . No one dared interrupt her. We knew better than to do so.  
  
Paul looked incredibly bored. He was lazily twirling a pencil on the desktop, and was eyeing Suze casually. Every so often she'd turn her head, see him doing so, hurriedly throw me a smile, and then whip back around. Adam was having a secret staring competition with a guy across the room, Tony, I think his name is. They looked like they were making the best of the worst situation.  
  
Me? I watched.  
  
I quietly observed everyone, storing information in my head. Not that any of it was particularly useful . . . but yeah. It was just stuff that I'd keep for later . . . the fleeting fear I saw on Suze's face when she noticed Paul staring at her. The way Adam's nose crinkled when he was quietly laughing. The suggestive hunger in Paul's icy eyes as he looked at Suze.  
  
I watched.  
  
Finally, after an eternity of too many facts about Junipero-Serra-also- known-as-Miguel-Jose-Serra that I would never use, Ernie stopped and gave us all a hard looking over. 'So,' she said in a low, kind of masculine voice. It made me transitorily question her sexual status, until I noticed - oh yeah. No padded bra ever made would ever be as intimidating as those - 'You now have an assignment.'  
  
Oh, joy.  
  
'You will complete a project on the life of Junipero Serra, our school founder. You will work in pairs, and it will be in detailed timeline form. Chronological order,' she added aloofly, her eyes glazing over coldly.  
  
And this was supposed to be a woman of God.  
  
Jeez . . . who dumped her and made her a sour lemon?  
  
'You will choose your pairs now,' she said dismissively, sitting down.  
  
My eyes were magnetically drawn to Adam, but he was looking at Suze hopefully. Only, it looked like Paul was getting in first. 'Hey, Suze,' Paul whispered, leaning over to her. Suze turned around, and - oh my God, get this - blushed.  
  
Susannah Simon blushed.  
  
Yes. I kid you not.  
  
'I'm still single,' Paul teased, edging his chair over to her a little more. I stared curiously, as did Adam, who looked like he wanted to grind Paul's bones to make his bread.  
  
'Well, I'm not,' Suze said huffily, looking forward with a furious determination that I know so well.  
  
Paul flashed her a wry grin. 'Oh, of course. Jesse. Dearest, deadest Jesse -'  
  
'Shut it!' Suze snapped.  
  
She whipped open a textbook needlessly. I say needlessly, because we didn't need to refer to them. Paul seemed to notice this as well, because his smirk went crooked. He stretched out his arm, and closed it, brushing his hand over hers.  
  
Whoa, the way Suze reacted when he did that - just touched her - even made me cynical. She gasped. Yeah, Suze gasped because a guy made contact with her skin.  
  
That was kind of . . . you know, odd.  
  
'You're not going to go with me on a school assignment because of Jesse?' he asked her, giving her an annoyed look. His chair, I noticed, was now beside hers. Sister Ernestine had her head down, and didn't notice. Neither did anyone else, except me and Adam. Paul, I observed, had trailed a finger up her - now sweater-lacking - arm. And again, whoa.  
  
She shivered.  
  
Suze turned around to face him, and noticed me staring. She gave me a very small smile, and looked at Paul, before BLUSHING AGAIN, and tearing her eyes away. Paul turned around, also saw that I was - well, kindof eavesdropping, and nodded at me. I felt awkward, and again, tried to catch Adam's eye so he'd ask me to be his partner. But no go.  
  
That was when a spine-chilling sensation overtook me, and - judging by the sudden gasps from around the room - the whole class. It felt like . . . I dunno. Like I was frozen. Like everything was.  
  
Weird thing, though, when I snapped out of it, well . . . Suze and Paul were in the corner of the room.  
  
You may say, "so what?" But no . . . it was impossible for . . .  
  
Oh man. Something weird was going on . . .  
  
That was impossible. Paul and Suze, they'd just gone from sitting in their seats, normally, to being in the opposite end of the room. And Suze looked absolutely furious, while Paul just looked pissed.  
  
Okay . . . again with the "someone is doping me up" conspiracy theory.  
  
That couldn't have been possible . . . to move so fast. Nah, maybe I fell asleep again? Maybe -  
  
This was weird. This was really not right.  
  
Suze huffed at him, and stormed back to her seat. 'Adam?' she demanded, 'Can I go with you?'  
  
Adam looked like the Olsen twins had asked him to have a threesome. 'Are you seri - sure,' he said quickly, grinning widely. I saw Paul glide back to his seat.  
  
He looked mighty annoyed. He was glaring at Suze for a moment. Then he just rolled his eyes, slumped back into this chair, until he caught my eye.  
  
Because I was still, you know? Watching the whole thing?  
  
I looked away quickly, but he leaned over my desk. I felt my heart quicken just a little bit. He was going to demand why you were eavesdropping. Just calmly explain about the journalist thing, and that he can't sue you YET. Don't freak, don't freak, don' freak, don't BE a freak -  
  
'With anyone yet?' he wanted to know.  
  
. . . WHAT?  
  
I was completely floored. 'Huh?'  
  
I seemed incapable of processing the question, so he repeated himself. 'Have you got a partner for this stupid project?' he asked, still with traces of excess annoyance.  
  
Okay. I was pretty sure that I was stoned. Something very strange had just occurred that defied space, time, and all logic.  
  
And now, Paul Slater had just asked me a question that defied all space, time, and logic.  
  
'I . . . I'm um - er - ' I stuttered with that glorious sophistication I always seem to radiate with. Not.  
  
Again, he found this funny, because his eyes narrowed in amusement and he tilted his face forward so he was now looking at me from a sharp, alluring angle, giving me a slow smile that seemed to tickle every inch of my skin.  
  
What was WRONG with me?  
  
I blinked at him, shook myself furiously, and replied with a firm, 'No.'  
  
He nodded conclusively. 'Well, that's done then. Sorry for the whole "second choice" scenario. But yeah, cool.'  
  
And he just sat back. Just like that. I felt something flutter dangerously in my chest, and I felt horrified with myself. No. No, no, NO. I can NOT be . . . attracted to someone else. I CAN'T BE.  
  
I love Adam. Powerfully, intensely, madly. He was my guy.  
  
He was the guy I fell asleep thinking about, who made me laugh. So what was WITH that little thingie? Just now? Was that my - God no . . . my HEART???  
  
For Paul? Who, okay, I'll admit, can be described with the words "big steamy hunk of sexiness," but - but THAT'S NOT THE POINT.  
  
Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no . . . detention and then adultery . . .  
  
Not that this WAS adultery, mind you. I was not married to Adam. I was not even committed to him, or going out with him. I was not linked with him in any way, save the friendship thing. But STILL!  
  
I am SINFUL. I should be . . . um, I should, you know, go to confession or something! Tell Father Dominic! "Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been . . . well, okay, I don't like your sucky religion. But I've done something bad, and you're the most objective guy I could think of."  
  
And then he'd probably condemn me to hell.  
  
Or at least make me learn the Lord's Prayer.  
  
Which would suck.  
  
And what about Suze? I mean, for loyalty's sake, I could NOT like a guy that she was - mortally, it seemed - afraid of. I just, well, couldn't. Paul Slater was not likable, in her opinion. So how could I betray her like that? Get a chest flutter?! How DARE I??? I mean, who the HELL do I think I am, aye?  
  
. . . I just felt so guilty. I mean, Adam -  
  
Hold it.  
  
Adam wanted Suze. That was that.  
  
There wasn't anything I could do that would change that. Adam wanted my best friend. And no, I don't mean he wanted himself - though sometimes, I reckoned he did - he was so into Suze that he could never notice that I'm the one who actually is looking at him.  
  
This isn't fair . . . it's really not.  
  
Suze was in deep conversation with Adam, while Paul was still looking at her angrily. Adam was looking ecstatic and shiny faced, like Suze had very seductively asked him to purchase condoms.  
  
I just sat at my chair, feeling weird. Then, Paul remembered I was alive. He turned back, with a fake grin on his face. 'So,' he said cheerfully, 'Let's talk about holy dead guys then.'  
  
I cracked a smile. 'You think this project is shitty too?' I asked dully.  
  
He rolled his eyes. 'I regret coming to this school, sometimes,' he muttered.  
  
I arched an invisible eyebrow. 'Why did you come in the first place?'  
  
His gaze strayed to Suze accidentally. 'Er . . . no reason,' he shrugged.  
  
Oh. That.  
  
Lesson passed sluggishly. Paul was, you know, kind of funny. It was nice, actually talking to a guy - besides Adam - who didn't comment on the fact that I had a lot in common with chalk. Aww, man. I really was in danger, now. Whenever he laughed at something I said, I would feel my cheeks flush and my heart go that little bit faster. I know, I KNOW. It was bad, bad, BAD!!! Like, I didn't want to do this to Adam. But it was doing itself. I had no control over how I was feeling. I really didn't. Every flush of my face, every smile – it was like, I could never see it coming.  
  
It was at the very end of the lesson that I heard Paul kind of growl, and glare at whiteboard.  
  
Suze was beaming in the same direction, her face lit up and her eyes swimming happily.  
  
So what? Someone from Spanish class had left a note in the corner, written in black whiteboard marker. In exceptionally old-fashioned calligraphy, but still, there was no big deal.  
  
"Te amo, mi querida."  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------  
  
Kindly REVIEW NOW OR PAUL WILL SMITE THEE.  
  
. . . Ignore me. I'm high.  
  
Regards,  
  
Lolly and Kat. 


	4. Adamant Adam

You seem to forget, this is CeeCee's story. Not Suze's. Jesse can't be in here too much. CeeCee can't even see him. But if you insist . . . he's in this chapter too.  
  
.........................................................................................................  
  
After that torturous Religion class, it was lunch. Thank God. I didn't know why, but I wasn't in the mood to eat. I mean, even though I had nice enough food or whatever, I just wasn't hungry. My stomach felt like it was full of hot fluid. Like someone had tipped scalding water down my throat, and it was burning my digestive system. I don't know . . . It was weird. I usually eat normally.  
  
But whatever, I wasn't now. So what? No big deal.  
  
Suze and Adam had already grabbed a bench to themselves out in the courtyard. Suze looked radiant - she had a huge smile swimming across her face and her eyes were glowing with happiness. I don't know what, but she kept casting looks to next to her. Weird, it wasn't like there was anything there. I walked over boredly, and say next to her - but jumped straight up again.  
  
'Christ!' I snapped, as I felt shivers shoot up my butt, 'did someone leave ice there or something?'  
  
Adam smirked. 'Want me to warm your butt up for you?' he asked me.  
  
I flushed and then gave him a dirty look. 'Grow up,' I said, still looking at the spot next to Suze. Was there like, an air draft coming in that I hadn't seen? Or what?  
  
Suze was grinning slyly. 'What?' I wanted to know. I was surprised at how my tone was so sharp. Her hand rested on nothing in particular next to her. Like she was pretending to lean on something. She was making it look pretty convincing, too. She'd be a great mime. 'Nothing,' she said sweetly, tossing her hair.  
  
I shrugged and sat opposite them on the ground. 'Whatever, Simon.'  
  
Adam was scoffing a salad roll hungrily, a look of content on his face. As if to say, 'Life is sweet.' Well, at least it was going well for him. Oh yeah, of COURSE it was going well for him. He was partnering Suze in something.  
  
I sighed, and looked around boredly, but looked back up when I saw Suze murmuring to herself under her breath. 'Huh?' I said.  
  
Suze turned her head towards me and blinked. 'What do you mean, "huh?" I didn't say anything.'  
  
'Yes you did,' I pointed out.  
  
She shrugged. 'No I didn't. I was, um, talking to myself. I do that a lot. If you see me doing that now, don't worry.'  
  
Adam grinned. 'Yes, we'll just know that you're quietly going insane. What colour straight jacket do you want? Red or white? I think that you'd make a statement in the red, Suze...red is so you,' he said.  
  
Suze looked to her left, and then back at Adam.  
  
And again with the smiling and the murmuring.  
  
I didn't understand it. I really wanted to, but I just thought it would be better to avoid the inner working's of Susannah Simon's mind. Oh well. I sighed yet again, and Adam looked down at me, frowning.  
  
'What's the look for, Cee?' he asked me.  
  
I blinked up at him.  
  
Oh, just the fact that you are completely head over heels for a girl that isn't me when I am completely head over heels for you but I am starting to get the hots for some other guy who is completely head over heels for Suze and I don't know up from down anymore and everything seems weird and it's like I've been pulled into this huge square and it SUCKS BEYOND BELIEF.  
  
Well, it was more of a love pentagon, if you included this Jesse guy. Just to think . . . whoa, a ghost . . . he could be anywhere. He could be right under my very nose, huh? It was creepy. He could make something float, or make some weird noises, or possess someone or something . . .  
  
WHY WAS SUZE STILL MURMURING?  
  
That was when, oh, just to complete this confusion, Paul came swaggering over. No, I don't mean that exaggerated swagger than people in Broadway do. Nah, just a confident, sexy sway that seemed to boast how tall he really was. I found myself staring up at him as he stood over Suze, grinning. 'Hey, is this seat taken?' he wanted to know, motioning to Suze's left.  
  
Suze glared at him.  
  
'Yes, actually, it - ' she began, but then looked quickly at me and Adam, and stopped, her eyes turning away. Paul grinned some more. I didn't get why it was such a big deal.  
  
So I helped Suze out.  
  
'There's no one sitting there,' I smiled at Paul, trying to be friendly. Suze immediately turned to glare fiercely at me.  
  
Oh. Oops . . .  
  
Paul nodded. 'Ah, there you go, Suze. CeeCee knows how to socialize. You could get some pointers from her.'  
  
'Fine,' Suze hissed back, 'Sit down there. Let's see how well that goes. How it looks for you to be floating on -'  
  
Paul coughed loudly and glanced casually at Adam, and so did Suze.  
  
Okay . . . something was DEFINITELY up . . .  
  
I watched both of them curiously, not understanding what was happening. Floating? Why would something be floating? Wouldn't it be cool to just floating? But yeah, why would Paul float?  
  
This was so ANNOYING.  
  
Paul looked coldly at the space besides Suze. God, what did he have against the space, anyway? What did that space do to him? Why was he glaring like he was going to commit homicide? Jeez . . .  
  
Anyway, after a few very awkward seconds, Suze muttered something under her breath, and invited Paul to sit down. Oh, not happily. She had a very ugly look oh her face, like she'd just found out that she was adopted or something. It wasn't pretty, her grimacing like that. I didn't know why, either. I mean, Paul hadn't said anything wrong.  
  
However, when Paul sat down, he - unlike me - did not get shooting icy pains up his butt. Well, it didn't look like it. I wasn't going to like, ask or anything. That would be weird . . .  
  
Suze appeared to have lost some confidence. God, that girl is such a mystery. I couldn't, for the life of my, figure out why she was being such a headcase over this Paul guy. I mean, it wasn't as if he was really annoying her. He was just being friendly. And wanting to sit with us? Well, I thought that that was sweet, you know? In a very minimal-stalker kind of way, but yeah.  
  
So Suze was sitting in between Paul and Adam, the two guys that wanted her bad. It was kind of ironic, how that happened, and I was on the floor, staring up at all of them, with a sudden loss of appetite. Hmm, ironic indeed. Actually, no. It kind of pissed me off. I didn't know why, but it did.  
  
Suze looked very weird. Like she was trying to swallow an aspirin that was quickly dissolving in her mouth, and she could taste all of the medicines that were in the powdered tablet, and was trying to force it down her throat, but it was sticking to the back of her tongue, refusing to just be washed away.  
  
May have exaggerated there a little, but in general, she'd looked better, we'll say.  
  
As in, the whole "if Paul Slater says one more word I'm going to poke out his eyes" was a whole new thing for us.  
  
Er, yeah.  
  
Paul, grinning at Suze and her silence, suddenly looked down at me. 'So, CeeCee,' he said good-naturedly, shooting Suze a sideways glance, 'That assignment. What, do you want to come over and work on it?'  
  
I flushed a dark shade of magenta. M - me? Go to a g - guy's house? A guy other than Adam? What was he talking about? I stared at him as if he were crazy.  
  
Which I was truly starting to think he was. I mean, hello? I'm CeeCee Webb. I don't get asked over to other peoples' houses, at all. Save Adam and Suze. But yeah, and certainly not a guy's house, even if it IS only for homework. Which is ALL I wanted it to be, mind. Nothing other than good old- fashioned homework, you know? Well, I think . . . I don't know. I didn't know much anymore –  
  
That was when St. Susannah had to intervene.  
  
'Don't even think about it, Paul,' she snapped at him, with a fire in her sparkling jade eyes. Paul turned to look at her, with an expression that opposed her own. It was mocking, and amused, and kind of . . . er, well, insidious.  
  
Joy.  
  
'I think that CeeCee actually has a right to answer,' he shrugged at her. 'Just because you don't want to come over, it doesn't mean that she doesn't. After all, it is for school. And school's important Suze.' A kind of weird smile claimed his lips, and it made me go all jittery inside. It wasn't exactly enticing anymore, now it was just . . . well, errant.  
  
Suze was giving him a steady glare, as if she wanted to say something, but didn't want to at the same time. Maybe it was just because me and Adam were there. Maybe she wanted privacy. You know what? I reckoned that she didn't want me to go over there because she was jealous. I think that - after so long of me being jealous of her - Suze Simon was a bit jealous of me.  
  
I know it kind of seems uncanny, or whatever, but be serious. Suze didn't have someone chasing her. I think that that really annoyed her. The fact that Paul had moved on from her. Well, I dunno if he had, actually, but Suze probably thought so. And while Paul, by no means, wanted me to replace her in his affections, or whatever - ew, hell no - he was still asking me over, and not her.  
  
Hello, Suze? Get your mind out of the gutter. It was for SCHOOL WORK, you freak.  
  
. . . Whoa . . . it felt so weird to call someone a freak. Someone that wasn't me . . . it was as if I was the resident freak, and just, calling someone else that seemed wrong. But I was annoyed at Suze. I really was. It wasn't everyday that someone asked me to come to their house - to do SCHOOL WORK, FOOLS.  
  
So who the hell did she think she was, spoiling it for me?!  
  
'That'd be okay,' I said calmly up at Paul. He gave Suze a complacent, pointed look, and then grinned down at me, his million dollar smile making my face heat up again. I felt really strange. Light-headed again.  
  
'You know,' Paul said, leaning down to me, all the while knowing precisely Suze's every move and expression,  
  
'Your hair is gorgeous.'  
  
Suze cracked.  
  
'Okay, that's it,' she said murderously. She stood up, seized Paul by the elbow, and dragged him off in fury. Paul didn't seem to be protesting, but rather laughing at her. I blinked after them, and Adam - who'd finally choked down the salad roll, raised his eyebrows. 'What's her damage?' he wanted to know.  
  
A wave of angry curiosity washed over me. Paul, he'd just said that my hair was . . . well, he didn't comment on how white it was, rather . . . you know, he said that it was nice and stuff. That had made me feel kind of . . . special. That someone wasn't teasing me for being albino. And while I do actually have very nice hair, people don't really notice it.  
  
They first and foremost see only that it is white, and it's not normal.  
  
Paul said it was gorgeous.  
  
And then Suze had to spoil it . . .  
  
So, with irritation, I stood up and tiptoed after where Suze had hauled Paul off to. I could hear her snarling at him from inside a classroom. I positioned myself outside the door, straining my ears.  
  
'Paul, why are you doing this?' Suze wanted to know. She sounded really mad. Why should she be?  
  
Oh it's okay, Cee. Remember, she's just a bit jealous.  
  
Oh yeah.  
  
Paul even sounded like he was smirking. I could hear a sickly sweet innocence dripping in his tones. 'Why do you want to know?' he asked dryly. 'You're not . . . jealous, are you?'  
  
Ha! I knew it!  
  
'What?' demanded Suze, sounded offended, 'are you KIDDING me? Come on Paul, I think we both know that I could rather walk over hot coals than be near you. Trust me, as we speak I'm regretting that Father Dom didn't install a "Gateway to Hell" just for my benefit. No, I'm asking, why are you doing this to my friends? Don't bring CeeCee into it. I don't care if you're pissed at me.'  
  
Her tone sounded deadly. 'But don't you dare hurt her . . . '  
  
Whoa . . . What the hell?  
  
I heard Paul laugh a little. 'Oh, Suze,' he tutted in a voice that was swollen with mirth, 'You presume way too much. I'm not going to do anything. God, I actually think that schoolwork has some significance. I think lessons are very important. You don't. But I wish you'd realize that . . . '  
  
He trailed off.  
  
'And?' Suze prompted, with a pronounced bite.  
  
'Well, you really need to realize that some lessons are important. You should really start showing up to said lessons. Because your teachers are getting very pissed, Suze. They're tired of waiting.'  
  
There was something there, that I kind of missed. What was that supposed to mean? Lessons? Suze didn't wag classes or anything.  
  
I mean, well, besides from that time she got booted out of school by Ernie for wearing a miniskirt, but that wasn't exactly her fault. Well, um, technically it was, but you know, she didn't actually SKIP class. She was kicked out. There's a difference there, I guess. Ha, something to be said for disobeying the rules. You can get out of school. Not that I'd want to.  
  
And I'd sure as hell never EVER wear a miniskirt. Please, give me some credit? I have class, and reserve, thank you kindly.  
  
But Suze's breath seemed to catch there. I heard her sigh. 'Look,' she said in what seemed to be defeat, 'The deal was a stupid thing I agreed to in the heat of the moment. I've talked to Jesse about it - he found out, because I was kind of babbling and he caught what I said - er, anyway, and yeah, he made me promise to tell you I wasn't going. You saw the way he was glaring at you just a second ago.'  
  
What? Jesse had been here? WHERE?  
  
My hearing suddenly intensified . . . Suze was talking about this Jesse guy, the one that she never seemed to mention anymore. I leant against the door, and even peaked at the corner on the little window near the top . . .  
  
Suze was glaring at Paul. Well, that was obvious. She looked like she'd love nothing better than to pummel his face into a powdery substance. Which I thought was unfair. Because Paul wasn't offending her. I mean, these mysterious lessons? How bad could they be? Yeah. So what? I just couldn't understand how someone as strong willed as Suze could be such a wuss when it came to some guy.  
  
I mean, an incredibly hot guy like Paul Slater, but yeah. Hey, that's a PLUS. So what was her problem with him? I mean, he was clearly into her. Why couldn't she just chase him for a change, then Adam would see that she had made up her mind, would come back down to earth and would plant a big fat one on my pearly white lips? I mean, HELLO? Where was her LOYALTY here???  
  
. . . Well, I don't think it mattered. I mean, it was obvious now that Paul Slater had no intentions with me, except to use me to make Suze jealous. I mean, not that I wanted him to have intentions, ew. No, but it would have been sweet, you know? And new for me. I mean, when he asked me to go with him on this thing, my logic was saying, "Oh, cool. A nice, intellectual study partner. How pleasing."  
  
But there was this little voice inside my head that was screaming, "OOOH LA LA, COME TO MUMMA!" Which made absolutely NO sense to me! I mean, mumma? Ew. Maybe it WAS the whole "mumma" thing that was throwing me. I mean, incest? Not a turn on. I couldn't understand what that little voice meant. Did it mean that I was going insane? Did it mean that some happy gas had leaked into the classroom?  
  
Or was I subconsciously . . . I dunno . . . starting to see the new guy in a new light . . . ?  
  
Moving on from Adam.  
  
Oh, Mother of Mercy - who I don't even believe in, but WORK WITH ME HERE - please, no . . .  
  
I didn't WANT to move on from Adam. I really, really, REALLY liked him. He was a sweetie, and my best friend. Who wants to move on from that? God no.  
  
I just caught the end of what Paul said though . . . 'Well, you either come, Suze, or Jesse is kaput. And you will have no one to blame but yourself.'  
  
Wait.  
  
Stop right there.  
  
Suze can see ghosts. We have established that. I could not. Apparently, he'd been in my presence very recently, and I didn't know. So . . . we must therefore come to the conclusion that Paul Slater is indeed aware of when there is a ghostly attendance. Which indicates . . .  
  
PAUL SLATER CAN SEE THEM TOO.  
  
Oooh, man . . . this sucks . . . ow, my head was all fuzzy.  
  
That was when I saw Paul frown, and his head turned sharply towards me. He glared into my eyes for a split second, before I yanked myself away from the door in shock.  
  
DARN. He'd seen me. He knew that I'd been eavesdropping! Oooh, this was NOT good. Now he would think that I was a nosy little nincompoop with no life of her own. Which was, well, true, but –  
  
I didn't WANT him thinking of me like that!  
  
I bolted away from there . . .  
  
. . . And smack bam into Adam.  
  
'Ooof!' he grunted as we fell to the ground together, me kind of . . . er, on top of him. I rolled off quickly, knowing that my face was as red as the blood I bleed.  
  
'Whoa, Cee,' he frowned, standing up and holding his butt gingerly, 'What? They offer a free tanning service or something? We love your skin the way it is, don't succumb to the peer pressure,' he joked lamely.  
  
I didn't even smile. I was too mortified. Waaaay too mortified. Paul knew that I had listened to his conversation, and Adam now had a sore butt because of me.  
  
Am I ALWAYS like this? Seriously, please tell me if I am. Am I always such a loser, or is it JUST today? I swear, this was one of the worst days ever. Got tripped, got detention, fell asleep, Adam still was still lusting after Suze, and I'd just made his posterior painful, and I sucked, and Paul thought I was a loser, and I WAS a loser, and everything SUCKED.  
  
I want to be Suze. I really do. Her life, my GOD. It's so easy! She has NO IDEA what I go through, pretending to be so agape with the boys all wanting her, when she probably really loves it. It wasn't fair. Why do some people get all the luck? And hear me when I say ALL.  
  
'. . . I'm going to burn in hell, I swear,' I mumbled.  
  
'Huh?' Adam frowned. 'Why? Won't that be like, concentrated sunlight for your skin or something?'  
  
I looked daggers at him. 'Thanks, Adam,' I snapped.  
  
He didn't look so jokey anymore. 'Hey Cee, anyway . . . I needed to tell you something.'  
  
I gave him an expectant look.  
  
An adamant – ha, Adamant Adam – mien claimed him. His eyes looked stubborn. 'Cee, you're my best friend. You know that, right?' he said.  
  
Whoa . . .  
  
'Yeah,' I said, raising my invisible eyebrows. Yeah, unfortunately.  
  
He still had his eyes locked on mine. 'Cee . . . with that Paul guy, I can totally tell that you're into him. Don't even try, he's hot for Suze too.'  
  
Too. As in, as well.  
  
But . . . what the hell was he saying? Me like PAUL? Um – no, I just . . . not LIKED him, just –  
  
'What are you on about?' I demanded sharply. 'I am NOT into – '  
  
'Yes you are,' he rolled his eyes boredly. 'I knew you were gonna deny it. God, that was the first thing I knew you'd do. I know you too well,' he smile turned wry. I flushed in indignation. 'You obviously don't know me very well if you think I even LIKE that – Adam, he almost ruined Suze's chances for Vice – '  
  
'That doesn't seem to bother you as much,' he shot back. 'I saw the way you were talking to him in Religion, Cee. It's totally obvious. And yeah, just stay away from him, or he's gonna use you to get to Suze.'  
  
'No he's NOT!' I shouted, furious, 'I mean . . . uh – assuming that in some parallel universe that I did perhaps have an interest in him – '  
  
'You're way too see-through,' he said confidently, 'Translucent skin aside, I mean.'  
  
Usually when he bugged me about the albino thing, I was okay with it. But now . . . I was PISSED.  
  
'Will you shut up about that?' I yelled, letting myself get more and more offended, 'I always knew that Brad Ackerman was a racist pig, but to think that you're following in his footsteps, well, THANKS. Big thanks, Adam.'  
  
I threw out my most pained, enraged, fiery glare, and stormed away from him. I felt like I'd just ate pepper, and my throat was on fire. It burned like it hadn't before, because that was just it . . . I hadn't fought with Adam like that before. Tiffs, yeah. Argumentative debates, sure. But not a fight. Thus the pepperiness.  
  
What was WITH ME?  
  
Oh man . . . could this day get ANY worse?  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
School ended. I survived through French and History, generally unscathed. Well, unless you count the huge assignment we got on Ancient Egyptian culture. Believe me, you don't wanna know. And oh yeah, the French letter we have to write to some exchange students that were going to come over. I was going to go to France, too, in the Summer Holidays, as part of the exchange program. It was starting to look more and more appealing. Baaaah, so was jumping off the Eiffel Tower. Kidding, guys, kidding. Just yeah, everything was complicated at the moment. I'm not suicidal, don't worry.  
  
Well, not yet. If this keeps up, God, who knows?  
  
I was just glad that I had managed to get two classes that did not contain either Suze, Adam, and most of all, Paul. I didn't know if I could deal, if one of them popped into the classroom. God, I would have had a coronary.  
  
But of course, class was over. I still had to brave the locker room.  
  
Oh yeah, and then Sister Ernestine, to find a suitable time for my DETENTION.  
  
Part of me seriously wanted to tell Suze, just so she could kick Brad's ass so hard that sitting down would become a painful experience. But I knew that I couldn't. I couldn't let her fight my battles, hell no. I'd already kept from her how much the albino thing bothered me. She had no idea what a headcase I could be if I got onto the "life's so unfair" topic. You should hear me going, 'Why me? I didn't sign up to be an albino, why was I born like this? I didn't even get so much as a contract or a list of employee benefits, it's not FAIR' but that would only make her look at me like I was a freak. Which I was. It's not like SHE'D ever have anything like that to complain about.  
  
(A/N: Beg to differ, Cee. Btw, I did that on purpose.)  
  
Well, maybe that ghost thing. But seriously, how hard could THAT be?  
  
I sighed as I carried my four textbooks and my file back to my locker. My arms were aching from the weight of the load. This was the burden I bore. Being smart came at a price – my arms will eventually drop off from carrying around all of my encyclopedias.  
  
You gotta love it.  
  
Not.  
  
I was dreading seeing Adam now. Seriously, I could just imagine Suze, Paul and Adam waiting to ambush me at my locker with torches of fire and pitchforks and stuff. Melodramatic, I know, but still. It was possible, right?  
  
Nah.  
  
No one was waiting for me there. Oh, joy. I didn't know which was worse – the fact that Adam may still have been mad with me and was giving me the silent treatment, or if he had have come to yell at me some more. And with Paul and Suze? Well, that was basically the same. Paul had probably told Suze that I had overheard them, and now she probably found me an insufferable gossipmonger.  
  
Neat. Real neat.  
  
Dejectedly, I entered in the combination of my lock, and shoved my books in my bag, and then swung it on my back – which was also going to break some day. You watch – this time next year, I would be diagnosed with scoliosis or something.  
  
I'd just finished closing my locker, when I felt a hand grip my upper arm. For a fleeting moment, I had imaginative fears – okay, maybe hopes – that it was Paul Slater.  
  
Oh, Bless me Father, for I have Sinned.  
  
No. It was Adam.  
  
But he looked pissed . . .  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Oooh. Well, you did realize when Jesse was there, right? Please say you did, lol. We know this chapter was confusing, but that's what's it's like for CeeCee. We're doing that on purpose.  
  
Sorry it took a while to get up. Lolly has to alternate between writing with Kat for this and Hayley for Flashlight. Tough times, people . . . tough times.  
  
Especially with writer's block for Addicted still.  
  
Pray for her.  
  
Snort.  
  
Okay, we love ya'll.  
  
LONG REVIEWS.  
  
Lolly and Kat. 


	5. Whoopsie Daisies

Half Empty Chapter 5

Adam.

Adam was here to have a go at me.

Can this day get ANY WORSE?!?!

I mean, seriously. Does this non-existent God wanna chuck anything ELSE my way? I mean, how about the plague? Or HELL, strike me with some frigging LIGHTNING?

'We need to talk,' was all that Adam said then. The seriousness of his voice was kind of daunting. I blinked. Was he for real?

'What?' I asked him in clipped tones. I wasn't really ready to see him again after fighting before, after all. God knows the things he'd say. Let's just establish that Adam can be kind of hotheaded at times, and we'll leave it at that. Well okay, no. He's said things in the heat of the moment that he doesn't mean, but still, those things are offensive.

I totally didn't think a night of 'wondering if he was right' would do me ANY good at the moment.

He didn't seem like he was going to answer anytime soon, he was just staring at me, it was unnerving really 'What do you want, Adam?' I asked him again tiredly.

He glared at me, 'You.' I have to admit, even though he said it in a voice that basically sounded like he hated me, my breath caught.

But if he noticed, he didn't let on-God, I hope he didn't notice.

'I wanna talk to you,' he said, his eyes flashing with anger. 'Now.'

Ugh. I guess my disappointment of him not wanting me in the right way showed, since I said, 'go on then, talk,' with a lot more animosity than was necessary.

He seemed slightly taken aback, but he went on, not really looking the least bit apologetic. 'I'm sorry about the thing I said before. God, I didn't think you'd take offense to it. You never usually do. You know I don't mean it like that –'

I wasn't going to take it; I wasn't going to be that easy to win over. 'That's the thing Adam,' I gave him an ugly look. 'You're always saying stuff like that. It was just one time too many,' I interrupted him.

And it was.

That translucent-skin crack? Yeah, that really wasn't welcome. On any OTHER day, I would have been perfectly fine with it. I mean, I got it, like, 24/7. But today, I was just NOT COOL with being dissed about my freak-of-nature-ness.

OKAY?!?!?!

He blinked at me, bewildered. I think he expected me to just let him off; I wasn't going to make life that easy for him. He thinks he can just say anything to me and expect my forgiveness, well I was going to show him that you can't just walk all over CeeCee Webb.

'What's with you? God, this is what I get for worrying about a girl. What are you gonna do next, Cee? Slap me? Ha, at least I can joke around with the guys and pretend that I almost got to second base with Suze, haha–' he turned his laugh into a hacking cough, very quickly, upon my glare. Even HE had realized that this was SO not the time, and had the decency to look a bit embarrassed.

'Not that I have 'the guys' anyway.' He tried to save himself, but he really wasn't helping. I was having a hard time remembering what his point was. Until he said, 'Well, besides you.' Then I remembered that I was furious with him.

'Oh thanks Adam,' I said sarcastically, really annoyed all over again'You see me a guy?'

'No . . . I mean, there a couple of things you have that some guys just . . . don't. But not all guys, I guess. I mean, Freddie, that fat guy in twelfth has them too. Except his aren't –' he paused and smirked at me. I used the pause to cut in before he had time to finish the sentence.

I mean, who wants to hear about man-boobs?

'This is just so you. Everything is a joke to you,' I seethed, and yanked my arm away from him. And I meant it. It was annoying how he never took anything seriously. It was like nothing in the world mattered, except what was going to make him laugh next. What was his PROBLEM?

'Yeah. And why not, Cee?' he looked at me, as if daring me to answer.

'Because, some things aren't just jokes. Some things are serious.' I told him. Waiting for his response, I found that inspecting my nails was easier to do than looking at him.

'Just, this Paul Slater thing isn't. A joke, I mean. That, I'm being totally serious about. See my serious face? Deadpan.' With this he looked at me intently. It was as if, dear Lord, he was actually solemn about this. And, I didn't think he could look any hotter, but there it was, he had pulled it off. 'Ow . . . it hurts . . . haven't used it in a while . . . '

I chose to ignore the last comment, and instead asked him, 'What's so serious about it? Huh?'

But instead of answering me he got all cryptic and gave me an sarcastic look, 'I wonder.'

I wasn't in the mood for games though. Totally not. Monopoly is cool. Scrabble is cool too. But when Adam tries to imitate a cryptic crossword, it gets old, fast. 'What's that supposed to mean?' I demanded.

He scoffed. 'Cee? In case you haven't noticed, Paul Slater is like . . . a . . . I dunno, one of those woman-user thingies. He uses people to get what he wants. And yeah, I wonder who he wants now? Guess what, Cee?' he raised his eyebrows, 'It's not you.'

Wow. Blunt.

That was something I already knew, but it still hurt me to hear it out loud. It was something I expected Debbie Mancuso to say, but not Adam, the guy who has been my best friend ever since he hit Scott in 1st grade for dropping my lunch in the mud. But I can take Debbie being bitchy to me, but Adam? That really hurt.

I was determined not to let it show.

I mean, serious. Adam wasn't being a dickhead. He was being a BITCH.

Remind me not to repeat that to Brad Ackerman or Scott Turner. Our Mr McTavish would only get more wedgies.

'Wow. Thanks Adam. Well maybe you just can't handle that someone likes me. Someone likes me as more than just a friend.' Oops. That implied that I wanted Adam as –

Screw the implications.

'Cee, you're killing me.' Adam laughed humorously, 'Paul doesn't like you more than a friend. Not even as a friend, I'd bet. He's using you to get to Suze. Can't you get that? Jesus, for someone who aces every test in everything, you can sure be dumb. I mean - uh, blind–' he started to falter at the end. So I helped him out a little.

'It's nice to know my friends are so damn supportive, really, cheers.'

Okay, now I was just getting way immature. And by the look of it, Adam was starting to get angry. Again.

'Cee, you're being so weird about this! God, you're the one telling me that Suze isn't interested. Well, at least I know that. It's a healthy fantasy I have, Cee. I mean, visualizing her and I in a steamy hot tub is a great pass-time. But this thing with Paul that you're obviously choked up about . . . it's disgusting. And you're gonna get hurt. And contrary to popular belief, I actually DON'T like it when people hurt my best friend.' He glared at me so harshly, it almost made me choke.

'A-Adam,' I hesitated, before getting my voice back. 'Excuse me? Why is it so disgusting?'

Wait . . .

'Not – not that I even like him.'

Adam rolled his eyes. 'Yeah. Just ASSUMING you like him, right? Hypothetically speaking, of course. Oh yeah, my bad. Cee, it's really hard for me to watch you get all mushy over some guy who only talks to you for one reason - to frigging get to someone else! And I'm NOT going to stand idly by and watch some dickhead make you all confused.'

'Get it into your head Adam. I don't like Paul Slater! I like–' I really did almost tell him. The word 'you' was on the tip of my tongue. I stopped myself just in time though. 'Nobody. No one at all. I'm waaaaay too mature to be worrying about stupid crushes. God.'

Get over yourself, Cee.

He raised his eyebrows yet again. 'You keep denying it, and it's getting annoying. We should treat this just like . . . Alcoholics Anonymous. I'll start.' He looked angry, yet teasing. 'Hello, I'm Adam McTavish, and I have an insufferable, blind, proud friend who refuses to see what's right in front of her eyes. Now let's move around the circle . . . aaah, you.' He pointed at me. 'With the white hair. Share.'

I was about to tell him to do something that I don't think was really suitable to say in front of all these people - and it wasn't a declaration of my love - when he cut me off.

'Now this is your cue to say, 'Hello, I am CeeCee and I am hot for Paul which is BAD.''

Now our voices were starting to get louder, I could feel the gaze of several of my classmates burning through me. But I was angry, I didn't care who saw this.

'For the last freaking time, I am NOT hot for Paul Slater.'

He shook his head in mock solemnity. 'Denial,' he sighed.

I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration. 'I am not saying it again; I DO NOT like Paul freaking Slater!' But I didn't quite say freaking.

'Yes you do.' What the hell? What was he, five?

'I don't!' I told him loudly.

'Ha,' he smirked fiercely, 'I made you say it again.'

That was the last straw. He was just so infuriating!

'That's it!' I stormed off heatedly in the other direction.

I started mumbling under my breath, something about Adam, I'm not even sure what I said.

Adam didn't seem to want to let me go though.

Only, not in the way I would have preferred.

No. Fugly wasn't done yelling at me quite yet. Joy.

'Hey, hey, hey, no you don't.' He scurried after me. I was headed for the library, my only haven in this hell of a school. It was where I went to get away from it all, the racism, the bullying, the discrimination. I wasn't going to stop; there was no way I was going to listen to anymore of his crap.

'Cee, stop being a bitch!' That stopped me. I froze in my tracks. I didn't turn around though; it was like I was rooted to the spot.

I could imagine him blanching, I knew him too well.

'I didn't mean that, I –'

That's better.

'Wait. Yes I did.'

What!? I swung round, livid.

Adam. Just. Called. Me. A bitch.

That name was reserved for Debbie and Kelly. Not me . . . never me. He'd never actually called me that before, and had meant it like he did, there.

'You're refusing to listen to me,' he said simply to me. 'And while an overdose of my talking can do serious damage, this is important. Because PAUL could do some serious damage,' he glared at me.

What? Paul? Who was he kidding? Sure, Paul Slater was pretty strong, but it's not like he would hit anyone. HA. That was actually kind of weird. Paul hitting someone? Hello? The guy was a total . . . um, I dunno, but he was pretty nice, as far as that went. He wasn't some sort of monster, but Adam made him out to be Satan or something. Spawn of Satan? Whoever thought he was that was TOTALLY not playing with a full deck.

(A/N: CoughSuzeCough.)

It was almost four now. Seriously. Most kids had gone home. Who wanted to stay at school this afternoon? There was nothing on, after school today. So only a few people trickled down the halls.

'Hey Adam?' I called him sweetly.

'What?' he looked at me impatiently.

'You like the rodeo?'

He stared at me in complete surprise. 'Wha –'

'Because I hope you can ride bull as well as you can speak it,' I went to storm off again.

But Adam wasn't having it. 'WAIT!' he grabbed my arm and whirled me around. Sort of like dancing but not.

Ugh.

Then he noticed a bunch of girls peering at us and whispering.

He dragged me to the nearest door and pushed me in there, before tugging a bit of string hanging from the ceiling, which caused a light bulb to go on.

'Good, we have some priva–Cee,' he gave me a small smile, one that almost made me melt.

But instead I gave him an icy glare. 'What's your malfunction?'

'What? Broom closets never hurt anyone,' he grinned at me secretly, a sparkle typical of Adam McTavish in his eye. 'Unless – '

I didn't wait for him to finish that sentence.

'Go on then, talk.' I told him coldly. I checked my watch, we should have been in lessons by now, but I didn't care. One more late mark wasn't going to tarnish my record. I mean, besides that stupid detention thing. Seriously, it's like Sister Ernestine doesn't have a life.

Must be the all the sex she had to give up as a nun.

Issues, much?

He didn't say a thing; he just stared at me. But it wasn't an angry look. I couldn't place what type of look it was. But it was making me far too uncomfortable for my liking. 'Fine, don't then. I'm out of here.'

I grabbed the doorknob and turned it. But nothing. I shook it harder. Why wasn't it opening?! I rattled it as hard as I could, taking my frustration out on the thing. 'Argh!' I shouted. 'Open!' I pulled it hard and I felt it slip from my hand and onto the floor.

The knob was broken.

'Well done,' Adam clapped sarcastically. 'You sure showed me.'

No way. No freaking way. I was NOT going to be stuck in here with HIM.

I stared in disbelief at the door handle that I had just succeeded to destroy.

Oh my God.

There was totally no way out. I couldn't even see a bar of light under the door. It was like, totally blocked. And this broom closet? Yeah. It wasn't that big, you know.

I don't think that there were any air vents either.

Aww, fudge.

I started smacking my head on the door repeatedly, but Adam grabbed my arm and dragged me back. 'Getting concussion is not really gonna help us get out of here, you know?'

He was being way too calm for someone who just got trapped in a janitor's closet. Especially for someone who got trapped in a janitor's closet with someone they claimed to hate. Well, he hadn't said that yet, but you could tell he wanted to. Before he started looking at me all lovingly anyway.

'Um . . . Adam. _Nothing_ is going to help us. We're stuck in a broom closet. Together.'

It might have been my imagination, but I think he looked hurt. 'You don't enjoy the pleasure of my company, Cee?'

'Not while you're telling me who I can like. Wait, scratch that. You're telling me _who_ I like.'

Okay, now he just looked plain angry. 'I'm trying to help you!' His hands were shaking a little. I'd never seen him this mad before. It was plain scary. I wasn't going to back down though.

'How are you helping me?! How is what you're doing helping?' I knew that shouting at each other wasn't going to do any good but I had to get my point across.

'Because Paul isn't what you think! He doesn't want you. He wants Suze!' Like the rest of the male population.

'Is it some sort of law that no guy can like me for me? Or are they all after Suze?' I scowled at him.

'Stop twisting my words,' he snapped. 'Now shove over, you honestly can't send a woman to do a man's job.'

But of course, since the knob for the door was broken, we couldn't get out.

Adam groaned, as he tried putting the door knob back in, but it had totally broken off.

'Cee, you retard! You broke it!' he whined. 'And this closet can't be opened from the inside, I'm guessing.'

'Shut up!'

'You're the genius who broke the door!'

'Adam, look, I didn't mean – ' I began, but he just ignored me, and charged at the door.

But only succeeded to bash his shoulder.

'OW,' he yelled. 'I forgot. The door is a solid. Meaning . . . it's kind of hard.'

'Are you all right?' I asked in annoyance.

'Freakin' fine,' he growled at me. ' . . . Okay, fine, it bloody hurts. But there's not much I can do, right? Unless you're a nurse. If you are, do you think you could wear that costume that they wear? With the mini-skirt? And the low-cut – '

'Anyway,' I said loudly, to override any of his weird suggestions.

'Anyway? Oh yeah. What?' he said. 'So how are you going to get us out of here? I mean, you got us locked in here.'

'What am I supposed to do?' I cried in indignation, 'Whip out my magic wand?'

'I KNEW you were a fairy godmother!' he pointed an accusatory finger at me. ' . . . you are, right?' He sniggered, despite the situation.

God. This is the man who stole my heart.

Clap, clap, for the handicapped.

I sighed. 'No. I think Suze is the one with the magic powers.'

ARGH!

'I, um – I mean – '

'Huh?' he asked. 'What? The captivating beauty? The total essence of hotness? Yeah, fair enough. She's gorgeous, isn't she?'

'Um,' I said awkwardly, 'Yeah.'

'Well,' he wrinkled his nose, 'Maybe not to you. I mean, you're a . . . you know, a girl,' he said, as if, you know, cautious of using that term with me. 'You are, right?'

I gave him a glare.

He sniggered again. 'I mean, you know, either you're a chick or you're a really wimpy nerd who needs to work out.'

'Thanks,' I scoffed.

The only thing was, well . . . how he said that, um . . . it kind of hurt. I mean, yeah. I know that Adam is a total weirdo. But to think that he barely saw me as a GIRL, kind of meant that there was really no hope for me. I mean, was I THAT ugly?

SINCE WHEN DID I CARE ABOUT WHAT I LOOKED LIKE?!

Oh my God. This was so, so bad.

I turned my attention stubbornly back to the door, just staring at it, feeling very lost. I mean, lost in more than one way. Of course, there was the question, how the hell were we going to get out of here?!

And then there was the question, would Adam ever like me? I mean, I think that he was making it pretty damned obvious that he really didn't see me as someone who he could, God forbid, love.

And plus. I think he was really annoyed at me, but was covering it up.

Honestly. I don't think that Adam can show his emotions properly. He doesn't properly get angry. That's why I was freaked before when he was all with the arm-grabbing. I mean, Adam does not yell at me. Paul Slater is the first topic that has ever got him hot under the collar like that.

It was NOT because he was jealous. A blind dude could see that. Adam was all over Suze. Like everyone else with a penis. So I couldn't comprehend his motives for getting so pissed. I mean, so what? Maybe yeah, I did like Paul. What the HELL did that have to do with Adam? He shouldn't have cared. He should have been happy that I was finally showing proof that I wasn't a) antisocial or b) a lesbian.

Adam poked my arm. 'Hey? What'd I say?'

'Nothing,' I said shortly.

'Why are you being so touchy today?' he fussed. 'It's getting old.'

'Just shut up,' I snapped at him.

'But – '

'Look,' I rounded on him. 'We need to find a way out of here. Okay? I don't know about you, but I REALLY don't want to be stuck in a broom closet all night. That would SUCK. So yeah, if you're NOT going to help, then just shut the HELL up and let me think of something!'

Adam blanched.

'Okay,' he said quietly.

With a grunt of frustration, I turned back to the door.

Then I proceeded to do something very weird.

I screamed.

Loud.

'Ow!' Adam's hands shot to his ears. 'Cee, what the hell!?'

I paused momentarily. 'Someone had to have heard that,' I explained shortly, and continued to do so.

'HELLO?! CAN SOMEONE OPEN THE DOOR?!' I shrieked, while Adam was complaining that I could break glass with my pitch, or something.

I prayed to God that someone would hear.

Which really proves that God is a complete asshole.

Because you know who opened that door?

Um. Yeah.

That would be Bradley Ackerman.

I coughed.

As soon as the door opened, exposing us to the light again, I winced. I mean, we'd been in there for about twenty minutes, and my eyes had to adjust to the sunlight, as opposed to the crappy little bulb, which was flickering, anyway. It was only then I saw how truly dusty this little closet was. And how small. Seriously. About four people, maximum, could fit in it.

But yeah.

'Well, look who wanted some privacy to make out?' Brad said nastily. 'I'll leave you two to it.'

AND WITH THAT, HE SLAMMED THE DOOR SHUT AGAIN!

'NO, LET US OUT!' I screamed through the door, but all I could hear was the laughing of a Grade-A jackass, fading off into the distance.

Oh my God.

Adam, again, tried bashing the door with his shoulder, but it was really starting to hurt him, so, with a grunt, he moved away, and started glaring at me.

I took the hint, to actually try and do something.

'Um,' I said anxiously, 'Maybe if I can shove something under the door – '

'There's no space under the door,' he said.

'Well, what if I – '

'What, Cee?'

'I dunno.'

'That's a first.'

I gave him a venomous look. 'Just SHUT UP. You are SO not helping.'

'YOU'RE THE ONE WHO GOT US LOCKED IN! YOU BROKE THE HANDLE!'

'You pulled us in here, Adam!'

'But – THE HANDLE!'

'It was an ACCIDENT!'

'SO?! IF YOU HIT SOMEONE WITH A CAR, THAT'S AN ACCIDENT. THIS IS LIKE MANSLAUGHTER, CEE.'

. . . McTavish Logic.

Go figure.

'I'm hungry,' he snapped. 'And thirsty. And bored.'

I crossed my arms.

'And I need to fart,' he listed. 'But I won't.'

I rolled my eyes in the dim, black-orange light.

'Be thankful,' he muttered.

I ignored him. 'Turd,' I said wittily.

'Forget it. You're giving me a migraine,' he lamented, holding his head and wrinkling his brows.

'Does the janitor ever come in here?' I asked anxiously.

'Once a week,' Adam said.

'When did he last c – '

'Yesterday.'

. . . Shit.

Kathryn Lee and Lauren Payne.

Unangelichalo and Mystique Angelique


	6. Quiet Hysteria

'I _can't_ believe you broke the handle!' Adam said again, piqued.

I groaned. 'GOD!' I snapped. 'That's like, the millionth time you've said that!'

'Eleventh,' he supplied. 'Not that I keep count or anything.'

I _bet_ you don't.

It was 6.30pm.

Or something.

We'd tried everything. Yelling, screaming, ramming the door, and Adam insisted on attempting telekinesis.

Surprise of the millennium, it wasn't all that successful.

'This is not cool,' Adam stated.

'You're telling me.'

'I AM telling you. You're the only person TO tell. Ugh. I had to get stuck in a closet with YOU,' he complained again.

Yeah. He'd been saying that for the past hour.

HOUR.

It was kind of upsetting, you know? To find out that the guy you're madly in love with, since FOREVER, isn't all that interested in jumping you when there's no one around to see.

Not that I want to get jumped.

...Much.

Oh well. It doesn't look like there's much of a CHANCE, though, of, you know, reciprocating anything if Adam were to take advantage of our near death situation. You know, with the whole me-having-the-hots-for-the-new-guy-who-was-head-over-heels-in-love-with-Suze thing.

But who lets THAT get them down?

...What a mess.

I sighed, for the billionth time.

That was when Adam's stomach emitted the loudest, most GURGLIEST grumble that I had ever heard.

It ECHOED.

Adam looked up at me with wide eyes.

'I think that's all the gas in my stomach, dying to come out or something,' he said. 'I'm gonna get gastro or something.'

'Ewww.'

He ran one of his hands through his hair. He looked a little pale. 'God . . . I am so hungry.'

I stared at him, before digging into my bag. There wasn't that much light to see. I wasn't thinking all that much, either. Which is surprising. I mean, considering the whole thing where I was secluded from the world outside, you think that I would have been thinking about anything and everything.

Not so much. All that was running through my mind was stuff about that essay that I'd written earlier. Well, you know...I was trying to remember how on earth I'd known that much about a text I hadn't actually studied. But whatever.

I'm sure all that was running through Adam's mind was "Black Betty" or something.

Goof.

Yeah. Back with the bag-searching.

I guess it pays to be anorexic for one lunchtime. I mean, the fact that I hadn't eaten any of my food that day pretty much gave us a days worth of snackies, right? I yanked out my little lunch box, and shoved it at him.

With the enthusiasm of a predator ripping apart its prey, he snatched up the lunch box, clicked it open, and practically dove at the chocolate bar that was inside.

'Score!' he said, stripping it from its wrapper. He was about to shove it in his mouth, when he looked at me, and blinked. 'Oh yeah . . . you,' he grinned. 'How much do you want?'

'I'm not that hungry,' I said quietly. Because I really wasn't. In fact, I felt pretty sick.

Probably with the knowledge that this closet was air-tight. As in, no vents, no space under the door, no cracks and stuff.

'Nah, it's okay, you can so have half - '

'Just have it all,' I said. 'Seriously.'

He gave me a long look. I replied his expression with an earnest, stubborn one. Still staring at me, he took a slow bite of the chocolate-y goodness in front of him, looking regretful.

Oh well. Better I don't have it. I'd get fat with chocolate, anyway.

Oh yeah. And one chocolate bar is going to make you obese.

Get over yourself.

He got over his guilt pretty quickly, and started munching on it happily. 'Dude, thanks,' he said gratefully. 'Aaah, soothe my aching stomach. You don't have a live chicken in your bag, do you? I mean, we can slaughter it, and roast it, rotisserie style,' he joked. 'Dunno what were going to do about FIRE, but you get that. We can throw in some marshmallows for the hell of it.'

Yeah. Marshmallows.

'Uh huh,' I said, sitting on my butt.

'What's your problem?' he asked, after stuffing his face with my source of endorphins.

What a great question. We only have twenty four hours in a day, Adam.

'We're stuck in a janitor's closet, Adam,' I pointed out. 'Or did you miss something?'

He shrugged. 'Someone'll find us.'

How optimistic of him.

'We've tried yelling. All that turned up was Suze's dickhead step-brother,' I muttered bluntly.

'Well, someone's a happy little platypus today,' he snapped.

'Shut up,' I glared at him. 'Adam . . . don't you get what's so serious about this?'

'Hey, you're the science nerd, how long is this oxygen gonna last?' he asked.

My point exactly.

'What's your hypothesis, Dr. Webbington?' he queried, lowering his voice.

I paused.

'We're going to die,' I concluded.

'Wow. That sure was scientific,' he said sarcastically. 'God. You'll get a Ph.D. with that brain of yours - '

I blanched.

Adam groaned. 'Great,' he said, half to himself. 'I'm stuck in a janitor's closet with CeeCee Webb. Where is SUZE, I ask?'

I think he only meant it as a joke. But I felt deeply hurt, nevertheless.

I felt it was best not to reply to that. I mean . . . what could I have said? Something gay like, "But Adam, don't you see what a waste SUZE would be in here, when it is ME that really wants you?!"

No.

And anyway . . . I wasn't sure, anymore.

In fact . . . I was dead confused.

Adam noted my silence, and frowned. 'What?' he asked slowly.

I gave a small sigh, looking at nothing in particular. 'Nothing. Just nice to know that you care.'

Only sliiiiiight sarcasm there.

He went on with his little joke. 'I mean, come on. Where is the justice? But - hey, what did you say?'

I blinked at him. 'What?'

'I do care,' he said firmly to me.

'Just . . . you know. Suze would have kicked the door down, by now.' A grin flashed across his wonky lips, 'After some tonsil hockey, and alternate spanking - '

'Adam!' I snapped. I really wasn't in the mood. I REALLY wasn't.

He was still beaming at me insanely. 'God,' I muttered.

With raised furry brows, he enquired, 'What about God?'

. . . What?

'Oh God what?' he asked. 'He here?' Yet another smile lit up his face. 'HULLO GOD! THANKS FOR THE DEATH ARRANGEMENTS. LOVE THE COMPANY. REALLY, I DO. THAT WAS SAAAARCASM, BY THE FRIGGING WAY!'

Yeah, well, I wasn't so happy with the company all of a sudden either.

I gave him another glare. 'I'm not all that happy with being stuck in a closet with you either, McTavish. Out in open air . . . I know there's a chance that I can run, flag down a car and leave the country. Here . . . no chance.'

'Good,' he replied in a very short tone, 'We have a mutual rage then. Just perfect.'

'Yep,' I said.

Then I sighed.

And he groaned.

So did his stomach . . . again.

And, just when matters couldn't get any worse . . .

The light bulb blew.

I am not even kidding.

'Shit!' yelled Adam in outrage, as we were plunged into inpenetrable darkness. My breath caught in my throat suddenly. 'Oh, God,' I said again.

'You're KIDDING!' Adam went on. I hear scuffle as he stood up, and him flicking the switch for the light.

This was so hopeless . . . come Monday morning, we were going to be decomposing -

Well, technically, no. A human can survive a fair while without eating, yeah. Drinking was a bit different, but I don't think we'd be dead by just the weekend. Air, however . . . in a room this small? Yeah.

We'd stop breathing pretty soon. I'd give us a couple more hours. Seven at the most?

And we wouldn't be decomposing. The decomposition rate, depending on the climate of a carcass, would be -

'THIS IS NOT FRIGGING HAPPENING,' Adam continued ranting, and I heard banging on the door. 'My shoulder aches. I need a painkiller. My head is woozy. I'm hungry. And horny. But Suze is not present. Damn.'

Okay. Ewww.

'This is not funny, Adam,' I said harshly. 'God? Do you HATE ME?'

I don't even BELIEVE IN A GOD.

Adam, thinking that he was being a clown, imitated an all powerful voice.

'Yes . . . '

He sniggered again. Despite the fact that it really wasn't that funny.

Because seriously. Scientifically . . . we couldn't survive. There was no more air in this room. It was only about thrice the size of a coffin. I am serious. I felt like I was buried alive, not damn locked in a cupboard.

'Shut up,' I pleaded. 'Adam . . . we're not going to make it out of here. Seriously. So please . . . don't joke.'

There was a bodily movement. I guessed that he's folded his arms in annoyance. 'At least I'm not a freaking pessimist,' he retorted, sounding louder in the darkness. And he sounded angry with me.

But still . . . determined to make light of the situation.

'If we're found,' I went on glumly, 'I hope that Brad Ackerman knows that he's the one who killed us, that asshole - '

'CEECEE. We are NOT going to die!' Adam growled, and I flinched a little. Not being able to see, all my other senses were sharper. I could hear every breath that Adam took. Every slight twist of his shoe as it squeaked on the carpet. Every sigh that left my lungs.

Every thud of my heart.

'Gawd,' he griped at me. 'What is WITH you? Why are you being this negative, CeeCee? It's annoying the shit out of me.'

'Like a laxative,' I replied.

What? It's true.

Think about it.

Usually, he'd appreciate my humour. Black comedy, I'd call it at the current time. But I think he was getting pissed at me. Like he'd been about the Paul thing.

'Whatever,' he said, 'What is with this "My glass is half empty" thing?'

_Half empty._

'Might as well see it sooner rather than later,' I shrugged, even though he couldn't see me anymore. The flooding, overwhelming blackness took care of that. 'Do you see a way out? Adam, the door is lined with rubber. Rubber that is moulding against the frame of the door, keeping this closet air tight.'

AIR TIGHT.

'Probably for the chemicals in here,' I explained, as if I was in Chemistry. 'You know, detergents and stuff. So, not only are we stuck in an air tight area, but the air that we are breathing is polluted with all the chemicals from the - '

'I don't want to know,' Adam said, raising his voice above mine.

Fair enough.

It was worse knowing WHAT we were breathing in, than not.

'But seriously, Adam,' I picked up, 'There is no way to get out. No vents. No key, no one in the school, by now, and it's Friday, so unless by some mirical someone should so happen to come by the Mission and perchance, open up a random door and it just HAPPENS to be this one, then we're in big trouble - '

'GOD?' Adam yelled, in reference to the Ass Upstairs, 'WHY HER?'

I bashed by head against the door gloomily.

'I do NOT want to when I have my crisis situation!' he snapped.

'This IS your crisis situation,' I pointed out.

'Oh yeah.'

'I'm just stating the obvious,' I said simply, in something more like detachment. I guess I was kind of in shock. A suppressed kind. I dunno. But I didn't feel scared. I just felt really quiet, and whenever Adam talked . . . well, I started getting freaked again. So I just wanted him to shut the hell up.

'No you're not. You're being depressing!' he argued. 'All this "WE'RE GONNA DIE!" stuff, CeeCee!' he said, in a very high-pitched imitation of me that rang mercilessly in my ears. I blinked down, again hurt.

'At least I don't keep cracking jokes,' I countered defensively.

'They save my sanity,' he sniffed. 'Don't diss the jokes. Some things just need to be cracked, CeeCee. Like eggs . . . and . . . well, eggs.'

'Sanity?' I echoed, horrified at the rustiness of my voice, 'What sanity would that be, you freak?'

. . . I called him a freak . . . I was the resident freak . . . I called Adam a freak, when I knew how badly it could hurt.

I knew, all right. Me, and my white skin.

Thank God, he didn't seem to notice.

'As a matter of fact,' he said with dignity, 'I possess a great deal of sanity. It's just . . . hiding. It embarrasses me, so I prefer not to show it off.'

'Oh yeah?' I glared up at . . . where I assumed his face was. 'I'd like to see it some day.

I was answered with blinding maturity.

He blew me a raspberry.

'Yeah,' he said, prior to said display of maturity. 'Too bad, though Cee. According to you, we're going to die, right?'

'Well, we are.'

'Good. Great. _Excellent_,' he snapped. 'I'll show you tomorrow, when we're getting buried then.'

'Monday,' I mumbled.

'What?' he demanded.

'Monday,' I repeated. 'They won't find us to Monday – '

He had the nerve to snigger.

I swear to God . . . he is not going to die from lack of air.

I AM GOING TO STRANGLE HIM FIRST.

- 8 -

According to Adam's luminous digital watch, it was 11.07.

I was so dizzy, it wasn't funny. My stomach ached, as if it was ready to eat itself for satisfaction. Adam wasn't all that good himself. His tummy reminded me every three and a half minutes that it was not full, and wasn't too chuffed about that fact.

Yeah. Got it.

We were both sitting down, now, facing each other. I know, because his left foot was brushing my thigh. With a slightly shuddering breath, I closed my eyes, the reality of the situation really beginning to set in. My whole body felt like it was lead. Oxalates were crystallizing my blood, making blood flow painful. I let out very soft moans, ever now and then, for my own ease. They were probably annoying Adam. He hadn't spoken in a while, which, at the same time as being a blessing, was kind of daunting. The fact that he wasn't talking, meant that something really was wrong . . .

I wonder what Paul's doing, right now.

Gah. Probably harassing Suze again. Calling her up . . . talking about Jesse, because he obviously knew about him too.

Or maybe Paul's having a shower. Something which I will never have the luxury of, ever again. Due to, you know, deadness and all.

Imagine what my family would say, when they've found me. In a cupboard with Adam McTavish, at the trusted Mission, long dead. Died from lack of air. My mum would cry. Aunt Pru would go on and on about how she'd "seen it coming," or some bullshit. Stupid old bat . . . as if any of that prophesy stuff was real. Who was she kidding?

And yet, I believed Suze about the ghost thing.

I didn't even know why I did.

What would Suze say?

Would I – God, why am I even humouring the thought? – come back as one of her precious ghosts, for her to medium-ify or whatever? Oh yeah . . . mediate. Would she have to mediate me? And Adam? Or would I slip straight into Heaven, or something?

Oh, wait.

I didn't believe in God. Stupid Greater Being.

So it was Hell for me, then.

How depressing.

What would Paul Slater even think, if I was discovered dead? He wouldn't probably care. I was just the best friend of the girl whom he wanted with all of his being, right? I mean, as if someone like Paul would show interest in someone like me.

Oh, how I laugh.

Not.

'Got anything else to eat, Cee?' Adam asked, breaking what must have been a twenty minute long silence.

'No,' I scowled.

'I'll take asparagus . . . horseradish . . . raw tripe, I don't care,' he joked softly.

'I don't have asparagus, horseradish, or tripe,' I replied blandly, annoyed at the disruption of my depressive musing.

'This is so screwed,' he whispered in an exhale of breath, and stretched. His foot brushed further up my thigh, so his heel was now planted unknowingly by my butt. I blushed a blush that he could not see.

'You don't think I'm hungry too?' I said with a rumble of quiet thunder in my voice. There was something that wanted to come cannoning out of me, with a scream that would pierce the night, in a cry for help.

_Quiet hysteria._

He released another breath. Another breath that converted our limited oxygen into carbon dioxide.

'I know,' he said gently to me.

Wow. He's being serious. Considerate. Compassionate. Wow –

'That's why I'm hoping you won't resort to cannibalism.'

. . . Okay. Thank you for destroying such a sacred moment, you dork.

'Well,' he said casually, 'At least not before me.'

It's wonderful to know that he puts himself first. Oh, feel my reassurance just _flooding_ in there.

'It would shut you up,' I reasoned.

'True,' he considered. 'Because there's a lot to eat of me, Sweet CeeCee. You know, getting through all that muscle is going to be tough. Well, okay, not muscle. It's something I like to refer to as . . . fuscle. Not fat, not muscle. Hence: fuscle.'

Genius, Really.

Yeah, the guy I like?

That'd be . . . .oh, Fuscle Dude.

That sounds just greeeeeeat.

As opposed to Paul Slater.

The New Guy.

"The New Guy" beats "Fuscle Dude" any day.

I . . . I think.

'The question remains,' Adam's voice dipped in a low tone of jokey seduction. 'Is, will you eat my – '

'SHUT UP!' I groaned in outright frustration.

He laughed weakly. Like he didn't actually have the energy . . . but he was laughing for the sake of laughing. 'I was going to say toes,' he noted innocuously.

He coughed.

'We're running out of air,' I pointed out.

'It's damned obvious,' he replied in a grunt.

I sighed, burying my head in my hands.

'And yet . . . your breath still smells minty,' he observed.

'Huh?'

'It's all minty.'

'My breath isn't minty.'

'Yeah, it is. Colgate minty freshness. Fills the whole room. Not an unpleasant smell. I've just never noticed that your breath was minty,' he concluded.

Wow. I think that's the deepest thoughts you're going to get out of Adam.

This was starting to get scary.

No, not just Adam's persistent randomness.

_We really were running out of air_ . . .

- 8 -

Please review! LONG REVIEWS, FOOLS.

Thankies for reading! You all rock! And happy new year.

Lucky Americans . . . Twilight comes out today for you.

Ugh.

Love Lolly and Kat.


	7. Having Faith

There was a definite strain on my breathing now. I was well aware of the dangerous amount of carbon dioxide floating around in our air now. I knew that Adam was kind of, too, but didn't want to show me that he was freaking out. Because, God knows, if he displayed some sign that we may die, then he'd be suuuuuuuch a hypocrite.

I could hear the gentle wheeze of his inhaling. There was a building pressure in my head. I couldn't see him. It was getting very, very stuffy in here. One fart would kill us both. So I'd previously warned him that if he did - fart, I mean - I would never partially do any of his assignments for Chemistry again.

That shut his ass up pretty quickly.

But, you know, it's not like we're going to GET OUT of here. So it doesn't matter, what I say.

However, I had to try. You know. Because he'd already accused me of being a pessimist. 'You do that essay?' I asked him, thinking he'd be all cheerful that I was finally thinking of something that didn't involve dying in a small enclosed room - now I was thinking of dying from getting murdered by a teacher who was chasing up late homework. Spiffing.

I could almost feel his frown of confusion on my forehead. 'What?

'That essay,' I said. 'The one for World Civ.'

'Oh, right,' he said, with a definite trace of bitterness in his voice, 'I forgot that you've memorized the whole semester's homework assignments. So silly of me.'

I paused in my next sentence, hurt.

'Not all of us are as nerdy as you, you know. Some of us have lives,' he informed me.

'At least I don't have a crush Suze,' I snapped at him corrosively.

He gave a hollow laugh. 'I sure hope not,' he said. 'I mean, nothing against lesos, but you and Suze? Ouch. Then again, we guys find lesbians unbelievably hot. Girly kissing, and the ever possibility of a threesome,' he trailed off, his voice sounding rich and gluggy.

I stammered out a reply of revulsion, when he cried, 'You DO have a crush on Suze? I KNEW IT! I knew that there was some code behind that "the square root of 144 is 12, Suze, calculated by pi and then you have . . . a number . . . fascinating, isn't it?" Means "meet me in the ladies' in five, topless," right?' he said with mock suspicion.

'Shut up,' I snapped, with a hideous blush that he could, thankfully, not see. I shifter a little to the left, so I was away from the foot that was still perched beside my butt.

'Hell no,' he shot, 'That would give you opportunity to talk, Spider-Webb. And my ears can only take so much.'

'We all know how you just loooove to hear yourself speak.' I glared into the darkness.

My face was getting hotter. CeeCee . . . don't think about it . . . just keep talking . . . keep arguing . . .

. . . No one's going to find you . . .

'Yes, I do rather enjoy my dulcet tones,' he said brightly. 'Like opera. Only, not.'

'We're going to die,' I muttered, shaking again. Not from cold. It was not even CLOSE to cold. I was freaking out. Against my lap, my hand was trembling. I guess I was really hungry, too. No food, all day. 'And you're STILL joking.'

'Aaah,' he mused, 'The great niece of the famous Aunt Prudence has predicted our deaths. See? This psychic thing runs in your freakin' family.'

Freak-Y family, get it right, loser.

'Give the Aunt Pru thing a rest!' I snapped.

'Never!' he chuckled, like we were having a picnic or something. His tone was NOT panicking. It was making me angry, how he could just PRETEND THIS WASN'T HAPPENING. 'Well, I guess this contradicts her predictions of my becoming an astronaut. How's for that, ex-Cleopatra?'

He coughed.

'Well, dead people don't make very good astronauts,' I mumbled to him. Maybe they do. I'll ask Suze that one.

'No,' he sniffed in disdain, 'they don't.'

No one's going to find us . . .

. . . We're going to die in here.

'Oh God,' I whimpered, leaning back heavily against the door, 'Adam, the air's almost gone . . . we're going to d - '

'God, SHUT UP!' he shouted in exasperation. 'Have you NOT seen Monty Python? "Always look on the bright side of life, doo do, do doo do doo dah dooooo - " '

'I hate you,' I hissed.

He went quiet, shocked. 'What?' he asked after a moment, astounded. As if he hadn't heard correctly, or something. I was about to reconfirm, when he continued. 'You hate me, CeeCee?'

'Y - '

'Not as much as I hate you, you freak,' he growled, hit foot, once again, moving so it was half digging into my butt. As if, he needed to know I was still there. I felt his knee bump against mine.

Freak.

. . . Freeeeeeeeeeeeak.

Adam hated me.

Adam was going to die hating me.

. . . My best friend.

It made me get cold and prickly all over, for some reason.

. . . I didn't mean it . . . I don't hate you . . . I could never hate you . . .

'Shut up,' I warned. 'You're using up all the oxygen, moron.'

'S'pose I am. Doesn't matter though, right?' Then imitating me, he started squealing, 'Well, we're gonna die anyway, what's the difference? We have to accept it, Adam! Oh, Adam, stop converting the oxygen needlessly into carbon dioxide, Adam! Adam!'

'Well the longer we live, the more chance some one will find us. It's not rocket science,' I bashed my knee against his nastily. He released an almost inaudible "oooh!"

He mentioned tetchily, 'Rocket science is supposed to be my thing, though. Remember? Potential astronaut here?'

I coughed, having not drawn in enough oxygen in my most recent breath. My eyelids were drooping. A horrible weight was coming down on my body.

'God,' Adam whispered, 'I wish Suze were here . . . '

An unexpected, white-hot wave of jealousy splashed across my skin. 'I'd bet you'd wanna spend your last freakin' moments making out with her,' I accused.

He chuckled. 'My plans exactly.'

'Typical,' I spat.

'That way, the oxygen would be shared. And there would be less need for it, and I'd last longer,' he joked.

Ever the joker.

He didn't STOP joking, damn it.

'Can you NOT be immature, for ONE SECOND?!' I shrilled at him, my voice going high and thin.

'Do you EVER stop criticizing me!?' he demanded hotly. 'Jesus Christ! It's like having an embodiment of my conscience!'

I said not a word.

He stood up. I knew, because of the brusque sound of his movement, and that his foot was withdrawn from it's place against my bum.

'I'm outta here,' Adam snarled.

'Oh yeah, sure Poptart. You plan to get out, how?' I drawled sarcastically.

He then proceeded to bash against the door, recklessly.

'Adam! No!' I stood up quickly, fumbling around wildly for his shoulder to stop him.

But he just ran at the door again.

And again.

And it didn't move an inch.

I grabbed his shoulder more forcibly. 'Adam, don't! You're going to hurt yourself, you suicidal freak. Just like when you think too hard. Now STOP IT!'

He did. I noticed that he was breathing heavily. Leaning back against the wall, he slid down it, a defeated man.

I joined him on the floor. We sat side by side, in silence. Two best friends. Stuck. Angry. Destined to die.

Oh, it's a Kodak moment.

His voice now sounded slightly shaky. 'So, Miss Science Fair, any calculations on how long we've got before we kick the bucket?'

My face felt very pale. I didn't answer straight away.

'I wonder why they call it kick the bucket . . . I mean, when you die, it's not as if there's always a bucket handy to give it a good kick. Neat stress reliever. Bad figure of speech.'

Adam's hand came to mine, and electricity sizzled up my hand. He squeezed it a little, probably unaware that he was doing so. 'I mean, at least "pushing up daisies" makes sense, huh? When you're in your grave, and there's soil above you, flowers might grow. Knowing me and what I eat, I'll probably push up weeds. Or just to annoy Suze, poison oak - '

'Not long,' I whispered at him.

'Huh?' he asked, and drew in a very heavy breath. Like his lungs were searching every particle of air for oxygen, rather than the ridiculous amounts of carbon dioxide that hung around us.

'You asked how long have we got,' I replied, sounding way calmer than I felt. 'And I answered you. Not long. Not long at all, Adam. The air isn't just running out anymore.'

'Oh?' Adam asked weakly.

I blinked. 'It's almost gone.'

I didn't voice it. There was no need to voice something like that.

Another hour at the most.

Adam was dead still for a moment, but then chose to see the funny side. I could not BELIEVE that he'd managed to find one. He let go of my hand carelessly, and was all, 'That is if starvation doesn't hit me first.' He chuckled with forced humour.

'It won't,' I said softly.

He ignored that. 'How long would I survive without food?' he mused dramatically, 'Without water? Without X-Box?!'

'Surviving without X-Box? A hell of a long time.'

'Hey,' he snapped, overly-sensitive for some reason, 'Don't diss the X-Box. It is my liiiiiife.'

'Don't I know it,' I rolled my eyes.

'No,' he said suddenly, apparently turning to face me. Darkness choked us - or maybe that was lack of air - but yeah, I couldn't see him. Though the movement from beside me indicated his movement. 'No, shut up, okay? Just because you're going to be some major archaeologist or whatever, doesn't mean you can take the piss out of me.'

I smiled wryly. Something quite masochistic, actually. 'I'm not going to be some major archeologist, Adam. I'm going to die.'

He was silent. From fury, it seemed.

'What?' I asked pointedly. 'I am, after all.'

'Shut UP,' he stressed, 'Seriously! I'm . . . I'm starting to believe it.'

'Welcome to the real world,' I said, 'So glad you could join us after sixteen years, McTavish.'

'SHUT UP!'

He stood up in a fusion of panic, anger, and denial. 'How can you be like this, Cee?! HOW? How can you be so certain they we're gonna die! We MIGHT make it, okay? Think about that?!'

'How?' I cocked my head to the side. My breath was making an unattractive wheezing sound now, and my hands were still trembling. I bit my lip, ignoring what was physically happening to me.

'Adam,' I explained coolly, 'It's Friday night, you loser. There is no one in the school. No one. No one would hear us. No one knows we're here. This air is NOT going to last us more than an hour, okay? . . . Two hours if we are extremely lucky,' I lied. Of course it wouldn't last that long. But I'd heard his gasp, as much as he'd tried to hide it.

'And by God,' I added, 'We are sure running out of sanity.'

'Hear hear!' he agreed. 'SO SHUT YOUR MOUTH!'

I stood up furiously, putting the fact that my body wanted to collapse, out of my mind. 'Just because you're living in some la-la land where everything is fine, doesn't mean it actually exists,' I spat at him. 'I'm sorry if la-la land is malfunctioning at the moment, and you're actually

REALIZING what a critical situation we're in. Because Adam? Like it or not, we are not getting out of here alive. It is not possible. So stop joking. All you ever do is joke. You are mentally retarded, when it comes to things that are serious, in life.'

'And just because you're fascinated by compound shit of the periodic freakin' table, doesn't mean that's all to life!' he retorted hotly.

'What?' I snapped, 'What does THAT have anything to do with?!'

'Oh come on,' he yelled, in a voice that was now not only filling the closet, but consuming it, like a choking heat. 'You have to have fun, CeeCee! You have to actually live! My world exists because I make it! I like how I am, and I like the fact that I can make people laugh! This is ME. Like it or not, this is ME, Cee! So SHUT THE HELL UP!'

I fell deadly silent.

My shaking got that little bit worse, and I didn't blame it on the air shortage.

'I am mature,' I said back at him, in a deadly calmness, 'Something that you will never be. I work hard. I enjoy what I do. I like things to be explained. I like your jokes, Adam. But not now. You don't have a serious side. You NEED one. Btu you'll NEVER have one, because you're ADAM!'

I was on a ragey roll.

'AND HE CAN'T BE ANYTHING BUT A JOKER!'

'What's with you?!' he demanded, and I heard a muffled shuffling sound, like he was all for bashing the door down again, as opposed to listening to me.

'I dunno,' I freaked sarcastically, 'Impending death does inspire some insanity, doesn't it?'

'And INSULTING ME is helping?!' Adam laughed in anger.

'Sure,' I bit.

'Well, I can insult you too,' he said simply. 'It takes TWO to frigging TANGO, CeeCee!'

'GROW UP!' I shrieked at him, giving him a hard shove against the door.

'NO. I like the way I am. Being immature is fun, and it keeps you from aging before your time. Like YOU. You're too old, CeeCee. You not like the other teenagers at this school, getting drunk and having fun and living LIFE, you're trapped behind your twelve inch thick Chem. books and Lit. homework.'

My eyes widened.

He went on. 'You're like one of the grown ups. You're too mature, Cee. You've wasted all your teen years where you're allowed to be crazy. And you're gonna have one HELL of a mid-life crisis because you didn't get to do all the stuff you should have when you were sixteen.'

Stiffly, I demanded, 'Have you ever thought that I maybe, oh, I dunno, LIKE the way I am, too?'

'What? How CAN you? The stress would SUCK. Yeah, you're smart. That helps. But is that all you want to do? Be a "book-girl" all your life? Okay, I get the journalist thing. But do you have to act so PERFECT?!?! It bums people out!'

Adam sounded like he'd just punched his fist against the wall, or something.

I'd . . . I'd never seen him like this. Well, seeing was a strong word.

But, you know, he'd never been like this. And I'd known him for a LONG time.

Then again, it's not every day that CeeCee Webb and Adam McTavish land themselves in death-situations.

Such a pity.

I shrugged numbly. 'I'm not going to have a midlife crisis,' was all I said.

'YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE A MIDLIFE CRISIS BECAUSE WE ARE GETTING OUT OF HERE!' he roared.

I jumped in alarm, leaning back from him.

There was passion in his voice, riddled right up there with fear, and determination.

He was being so stupid about this.

All the yelling was making the oxygen get rarer. I swayed slightly, but held the panels in the closet for support. If he got too annoying, I could always spray him in the eyes with detergent or something. My eyes flickered for a moment, and I held my chest.

Don't think about it . . .

'We're not getting out of here,' I murmured almost inaudibly to him. There was no way.

When he spoke again, I heard something in there that had been absent before.

He was begging me to believe him, now.

'CeeCee . . . God, have some faith, okay? I know it's hard to think that out there, there might be something other than your lovely, fat textbooks who know all about the world and why everything is the way it is . . . but try to think. Have faith in this thing that you can't see.'

Air?

'Hell, maybe there is a God. Maybe it's Buhdda or soemthing, I don't care. You always curse about God, and yet you don't believe in him,' he said.

. . . He was right.

How often did I say "God"?

I said it a lot.

And yet . . . yeah, I didn't believe in the Holy Guy.

'It's not that you don't believe in him,' Adam went on quietly. 'You don't want to. But you do.'

I processed this.

Could he be . . . right?

I didn't reply. He took at opportunity to move right in front of me, and place his large hands on my shoulders. They were Adam hands. Not Paul Slater hands.

This was Fuscle Dude. Not the New Guy.

I guess this was how it was meant to be.

Me and him.

'CeeCee, trust me . . . ' he said in the most solemn voice I'd heard him use. It brushed across my skin like warm peacock feathers.

His hands got a little tighter, so I'd stop freaking out. 'I promise you . . . we're going to get out.'

I didn't believe him, of course. But when he said that . . . I so desperately wanted to. And not just because I wanted to live. But because he'd said it with such sincerity, that I didn't dare believe that it couldn't be true.

I breathed in a half-breath, one that did not supply me.

'I promise,' he whispered to me, his face lurking inches before mine.

There were the gentlest reflections in his hair, of seemingly inexistent light.

My heart started pounding a little faster, and I got a little hotter, despite the chilly stuffiness of the room. My forehead was glazed with a cold sweat, and my hands were clammy, and I could feel Adam's breath on my forehead. Air, something that everyone took for granted, until it was almost gone, right?

And suddenly, I felt like crying. I really did.

But I didn't. Cry, I mean. I just felt that tears were sure to burst out of me, all of a sudden.

'No one knows we're here,' I repeated uselessly.

'We'll get out, Cee,' he smiled. Well, it sounded like he smiled. A breathless smile. His tone declared "breathless smile." 'I don't want Suze here,' he added randomly. 'Or even Mary-Kate and Ashley.'

I swallowed, suddenly.

'What?' I croaked.

He chuckled oh-so-softly. 'I want you here. I always want you.'

I noticed that the "here" on the end of that sentence was missing.

For a reason, I soon found out.

Yes, that comprehension was made when Adam McTavish leaned forward a little, meeting my lips with a beautiful gentleness.

Slowly.

There was shock, first. Then came confusion. Then numbness. Then a brilliant flood of extreme happiness. Then that was tainted by my fear.

But . . . oh my God, at last . . .

With a mournful despair, I deepened the kiss ever so slightly. Adam's hands slid down my shoulders, one at my back and the other in my hair. My own hands were on his arms. He gently backed me against the door.

I couldn't believe how incredible this felt. After so long, all I'd wanted was Adam. Then Paul came along and confused me. I didn't know HOW I could have ever forgotten Adam. Because he was all I could ever want. _This_ was my dream.

And it was better than anything I'd ever imagined.

Reality faded away for a few sacred moments, as he was kissing me. We weren't stuck in a closet, dying.

Adam was kissing me, and I was loving it.

My heart wanted to burst, it was so grateful. It pounded hard in my ribcage, and my blood pumped hotly around my body. My head swam in dizziness, but once again, that was stubbornly ignored.

His lips were so gentle. Like he didn't have that much energy.

That's when I remembered.

He didn't.

He stopped kissing me, and leant his forehead against mine. 'Inspire a little faith?' he asked weakly.

I started giggling helplessly, and I had no idea why. Hysteria, I guess.

The air was so low now, it was scary. Like an oppressive gas hung over us.

'I'm scared,' I giggled.

'Shhhh,' he shushed, 'Don't be.'

It was almost impossible to breathe. Adam gently pulled me into him, and hugged me tightly. His arms were wrapped around my back, and I buried my face in his chest, trying to stop giggling. I was shaking so badly now, I felt like a vibrating back massager or something. His hand grabbed some of my hair affectionately.

I felt like I was his.

And it felt beautiful.

That was when Adam leant against the door in exhaustion. Still hugging me, he slid down it, and we ended up in a kind of mess on the floor. We were both shaking, and were making a hell of a lot of noise in our efforts to continue breathing.

He hugged me into him more tightly, and I rested the side of my face near his neck. I was unaware that my fist had clamped a bunch of his shirt. As if he was going to be pulled away from me, and that was all I could do to keep him here.

It was so dark . . .

That was it. We weren't going to live through this.

I had so many things I wanted to say. Wanted to _do_.

I guess I wouldn't get to now.

Something distracted me slightly. Out of the corner of my eyes. It was like a flash of _blue_, and a rush of _cold_.

But I guess I was hallucinating, by then.

Or maybe that was what dying felt like.

My shivering got worse. There seemed to be a blockage in my airway.

Wow . . . I can't believe Adam lied.

He said we'd get out of here.

Hey, wait. Maybe he didn't.

He didn't exactly specify whether we'd still have heartbeats when we got out. So whatever.

The definite slump of Adam's body told me he'd lost consciousness. I started sobbing weakly, as a gag seemed to be stuffed in my mouth. I couldn't – I couldn't breathe. At all. I coughed hard, but that made it worse. It was like drowning, only worse. I squeezed the fistful of Adam's shirt hard, straining to find a little bit more oxygen – keep me going that little bit more –

My eyes fell closed.

Wow . . . it sucked, to die.


	8. Imperfections

**Here's your final chapter.**

**To the readers of this story, thank you SO much for all your support, and me and Kattykins hope that you've liked it as much as we've loved writing it.**

**Coz if we do say so ourselves . . . this is a pretty cute story . . .**

**You're all gorgeous, and wonderful and splendid and fantastic and awesome and Kat is wicked and she is . . . um . . . offline.**

**Well, that put a dampener on things, DIDN'T IT?**

**Pfft.**

**Sincere, heterosexual love,**

**Lolly (and Kat.)**

**- 8 -**

Dying wasn't as painful as I thought it would be. I mean . . . it scared the life out of me. Pun intended. But it didn't hurt. It just felt like someone had jammed a pillow across my mouth and nose, blocking my air.

And then it was just falling asleep.

And here I was . . . trapped in a world of black. I wasn't even dreaming. I guess I was just existing at the moment. I didn't even know.

This whole thing kind of sucked, though.

. . . I didn't feel sad. I just felt shocked.

I was dead.

. . . Was I going to come back as a ghost?

Oooh. Cool.

I still had the beautiful sensations of Adam kissing me . . .

I could still feel him, with his hands on my shoulders. Whispering my name. As I lay on my back. Feeling still rather bewildered that I'd lost my life so lamely.

'. . . CeeCee . . . '

Adam's voice sounded strange. He was dead too. I knew that.

Would we be ghosts together?

Again. Cool.

More kissing. Wow. I should have died a lot sooner, if I was going to get kissed by Adam like that.

For a dead woman, I felt alive, for some reason. Like, even as a ghost, or whatever, Adam's kiss was breathing new life into me. Making my clouded head clear. My dead heart pump again. My blood flow -

'CEECEE, come ON!'

. . . Um . . . that wasn't Adam.

Air.

Air . . .

Oxygen.

I was getting oxygen. My mind was whirling . . . the only thing I could hear was the deadly pounding of my head, and this voice.

And that's when pain rushed in.

My whole body ACHED LIKE HELL. And my head. My head . . . oh man. I'd never had such a headache.

Was I a ghost? Was I gonna see Suze, and get her to meditate - I mean, mediate me?

But this ache . . .

If I was so dead, then why was I hurting like that?

I moaned. I was being touched. Shaken. Kissed.

No wait.

Not kissed.

. . . I was being given CPR . . .

Well, damn it.

Air began rushing in my lungs. Warm air. My body began functioning. I could still only see black. I'd died, seeing black. The last light I'd seen was that flash of blue.

But then it was just black.

I hadn't escaped the darkness.

CRAP. I WAS BLIND!

'CeeCee . . . Suze – she's moving.'

Aching more severely now, I began coughing. The numbness was subsiding gradually to reveal yet more pain.

I half moaned, and my heavy eyelids cracked open.

It took several seconds for the blackness to go away, to very slowly reveal a fuzzy figure above me.

' . . . God?' I breathed.

There was a laugh. It echoed way too loudly in my ears, and I winced. 'Suze, she's okay.'

Incoherent words of relief flooded from somewhere to my right. I didn't know where I was, what was happening. I tried focusing on this figure in front of me. But it was still too hard.

'CeeCee? Can you hear me?'

That DEFINITELY wasn't Adam.

My shoddy vision began sharpening, and very slowly, the perfection that was Paul Slater's face appeared above me.

I was breathing. Oh thank GOD, I was breathing.

I tried nodding, but my neck felt stiff.

'Yeah,' I muttered in a very raspy voice. 'Is Adam okay?'

Paul's face turned to my right, and he looked uneasy. 'Uh - yeah. Adam's . . . fine.'

THAT TONE WAS NOT VERY CONVINCING.

I made a frenzied movement to get up, but Paul held me down, and told me to calm down. 'Adam!' I yelled, 'Adam?'

'What happened?' I demanded hotly, more pain pumping silently throughout my body, poisoning my bloodstream. I struggled in his killer grip. 'Is he awake? Is he - '

'Just shut up,' he sighed, 'Keep breathing. I'm gonna sit you up in a second. But keep breathing, and calm down.'

I numbly did as I was told, and sure enough, a hand slid behind my back, and cautiously, my upper body was pulled to a sitting position. Blood was circulating in my head with thunderous hammerings, like a constant drum beat.

I felt really, really weak, and I ended up slipping to the side into Paul. 'Sorry,' I muttered, leaning on my hands, with arms that trembled under any weight that I applied.

I was able to keep my eyes open, now.

'Hey, de Silva,' Paul said, ignoring my deep, heartfelt apology - not - 'Go get Father Dominic.'

. . . De Silva?

Huh?

'Jesse, please,' Suze's voice from somewhere groaned. 'Just do what he said.'

JESSE? WHERE?

I pushed away from Paul, and looked around hurriedly. 'Where is he?' I snapped. 'Where'd he go?'

Paul just laughed again. 'Oh, so Suze told you, did she?'

I ignored him. So there.

I had sensation in my legs, at last. I could actually feel them. And then, I looked past Paul . . .

. . . Suze was still trying to bring Adam around.

'Oh my God,' I gasped, as my jaw dropped.

. . . Adam wasn't conscious.

Suze was looking very scared, too. 'Shit,' she said. 'Adam, come on - ' she tapped at his face. I gawked in horror.

I scrambled over to them on my hands and knees, scared out of my mind. 'Does he have a pulse?' I asked stiffly.

Adam . . . God, please no, please no, please -

'No,' Suze moaned, her hair curling around her face. She was panicking. She started shaking Adam more. 'Adam, please, wake up - '

My heart was pounding almost as loudly as my head.

And even more so than in that damned closet, I was afraid.

Afraid that, even after we'd been found, at last, that Adam wasn't going to make it.

HE WASN'T BREATHING.

'Get water,' I ordered at Suze in more of a bark than a voice. Then I practically pushed her out of the way, and began doing the stupid CPR myself. I pumped on his chest, and breathed long bouts of air into his mouth while pinching his nose. 'Adam, wake up,' I said. 'You promised. You promised that we'd be okay. Are you just going to GIVE UP, now?' Breath. 'Well? ARE YOU?' Breath.

'Because, if you are, I will NEVER have faith in ANYTHING again - ' breath ' - becayse you LIED, you asshole. You said it would be all right. And if everything's going to be all right - ' breath - 'then PROVE IT.' Breath. 'Prove it, and start breathing.'

Two small spots of water landed on his cold, sweaty, immobile face.

I was crying.

'Please,' I whispered. 'Please . . . '

Breath.

Except . . . that was one wasn't my breath.

It was his.

. . . Adam just BREATHED.

And then, the most DELIGHTFUL sound filled the air.

Adam began coughing like mad, gasping for more precious air.

Me? I burst into tears and threw myself on him, probably killing him some more.

'CeeCee - ' Paul said, 'Get off of him.'

Crying harder, I did.

Wow.

Loser.

Hahaha.

Suze came stumbling back, her hands cupping some water. She threw it across Adam's face, and then realized that, oh yeah, he was conscious. 'Oops,' she mumbled, standing there, still looking half hysterical. Paul aided Adam in sitting up.

Goodie. Yeah, I was a raving lunatic.

But oh my God.

I was so, SO happy.

That, you know, I wasn't dead. That Adam wasn't dead.

I could barely see him due to tears. When he was against the wall again, I squirmed back forward and hugged him so hard. 'Oh my God,' I breathed at him.

He was kind of quietish. I slid my hands to his face, and my heart leapt at the unruly smile that came to his face

He coughed violently again. And then he said, 'I didn't break my promise, did I?'

And I was laughing, hard. Laughing and crying. Shaking and hugging.

And thanking a God that I claimed not to believe in.

Thank you . . . thank you so much . . .

And that was when Suze joined me, resting her head against Adam's shoulder, her arms wrapped around the both of us. 'Don't you EVER do that again!' she shrilled at me. I saw that her eyes were also bright with tears. Whoops. I guess we really freaked her.

Oh, sorry Suze. We'll try not to nearly die ever again, so you don't worry about us.

I was alive.

I couldn't believe how insanely, profoundly, phenomenonally grateful I was for my life.

And how disgusted I was for acting the way I did.

Never, ever again would my glass be half empty.

Even if it wasn't full, I'd always choose to see my glass filled to the brim.

Adam was okay. He hadn't lied.

And that was when he actually ignored Suze hugging him for a moment, slid his arms around my back, and started kissing me in a silent prayer.

Oh yeah, that's right.

He loved me back, didn't he?

How the HELL could I have forgotten.

And believe me. If there's anything to ice the cake of getting a second chance at life, it was for the only guy you could ever love to be holding you tightly in his arms, kissing you like you were the only thing that mattered. Even OVER the life that he'd almost just lost.

Thank you God . . . _thank you God, so much . . ._

8 -

'So,' I said at Suze lazily, sipping my coke. We were lying on the beach. Adam was frolicking in the water with these little kids, who were giggling madly as he acted like a complete goof, 'Are you going to tell me how you found me?'

'No.'

'Tell me.'

'It's weird.'

'You're weird.'

'So are you.'

'You smell.'

'You smell more.'

'You smell most.'

'You sm - '

'TELL ME!' I whined, throwing my can of coke in the sand. Suze was smirking beneath her sunnies. Then she sighed. 'You're not going to believe it,' she warned me.

'Try me,' I replied stubbornly, grabbing another can. 'I almost died. I don't think that there's much I don't believe after that, considering the least likely thing I expected to happen was to be saved.'

She tossed her curling hair back. Why then hell did Suze have to look so good in a bikini? Because she totally did. This jet black one.

Only, you know, red was Adam's favourite colour. And I had a very nice one-piece on.

'Where do I start?' she asked. 'Oh, I know. Well. It was actually Paul who discovered you were missing - '

I choked on my coke. 'W-what?' I spluttered.

Paul? Someone like PAUL noticed I was missing?

. . . Wow. Paul Slater noticed that I just suddenly wasn't there . . .

I felt strange. 

She rolled her eyes, and tucked her feet back beneath the shade of our huge beach umbrella. 'He was just trying to piss me off,' she explained boredly. 'He called you, wanting you to come over to start that Religion project on Juniperro Serra. Whatever.' She actually looked kind of doubtful that they were Paul's intentions. Okaaaaaaaay. 'But yeah. When he called up, your mum was kind of freaked.'

'Why?'

'Why do you think, blondie? You were a no show, like, anywhere. She'd rung like, Adam's, my place - even though mum hadn't actually INFORMED me, and yeah. Everywhere. So Paul then rang me and gave me the lowdown. One genius, one clown, missing. No clues . . . ' she did her best Carmen Sandiego impression. 'We were _baffled_ . . . '

I smiled uncomfortably.

'So yeah, then Mr Slater graced me with his presence in my Carmel residence,' she went on. 'And we started arguing again. About . . . um . . . stuff. You got mentioned, and Adam, and - well, lets just say that Brad heard about that detail. He mentioned he'd seen you earlier. And he mentioned this in quite a humoured tone,' she added bitterly.

'So we - that is to say I - beat the _fucking shit_ out of him till he told us where you both were, and how he knew you were still there.'

I stared at her in wonder. Looks like Brad got what he deserved. 'Did you get busted for kicking his ass?' I asked worriedly.

'Hell yes,' she muttered. 'That was when I got back home, though, after you were okay. I'm grounded. But then I mentioned the fact that Brad almost killed the two of you. Which is pretty hefty, no?' she sniggered. 'Andy. Was. Furious. You have no idea. You know, his son, being a near-murderer and all.'

It was kind of freaky. You know? The fact that Bradley Ackerman had almost killed Adam and I. Not killed, so much as not saved us. Well . . . actually, no. He locked the door UP again. So yeah. Almost killed pretty much covers it.

Scary, right?

I sat up, looking out at Adam. He was getting chased by a swarm of two-foot-high hobbits. Aka, five year olds. Mothers of said children were looking on fondly.

'And?' I urged. I turned my head back to her, and saw that she looked hesitant. 'What?'

She mumbled, 'Well . . . ' still looking uber-reluctant. 'Then we sent Jesse to look for you while me and Paul drove over as fast as we could.'

. . . Flash of blue . . . rush of cold . . .

THAT'S what that was. Oh my GOD. JESSE had been there. Suze's dead honey had been in my presence.

'What?' she asked defensively.

'I just . . . I know when he came, that's all,' I said.

'Oh, all right. Because he's here now.'

Whoa.

I looked around. 'Where?'

She started laughing. 'Oh, he's only here, telling me how I should be at least wearing something like you that covers more skin, and how it's inappropriate for me to be showing myself this much in the presence of men. Tell him, Cee. Tell him that it's perfectly normal for a sixteen year old girl of the 21st century to be wearing a bikini.'

'Um . . . ' I stared in awe. 'It's . . . perfectly normal . . . ?'

Suze beamed. 'See?' she hissed. 'Now shut up about it already. And give her a magic trick, while you're at it.'

And that's when my coke can lifted up.

. . . Holy Christ.

I gawked at the floating soda.

'Oh my God,' I breathed. 'Suze . . . do you realize that Jesse is actually existing proof that ghost phenomena is actually real? That all claims of ghost sightings may actually be true? That hoaxes may be unfairly dismissed? Jesse could prove to scientists of - '

'CeeCee, shut up,' Suze smiled.

Yeah, CeeCee.

Shut up.

Science isn't everything, you know.

I smiled back at Suze, still feeling pretty STRANGE that there was apparently a ghost in my presence. Suze looked pretty at ease. Well, you know, other than any other time I'd seen her. Which was pretty much always around Paul Slater.

Now she was with the guy she actually liked.

Even if he was a little dead, and no one could see him, that is.

But you could tell that she was happy. She was glowing.

'He's going in a second,' she muttered at me.

And randomly, I was all, ' . . . Suze, _really_. Thanks.'

Because you have no idea how much I meant it. _No idea._

She smiled at me prettily. 'If you have a near death experience again, you're _so_ dead.'

Adam was giving one of the toddlers of the midget clan a piggy-back, and they were all giggling shrilly. The sun was bouncing off the ocean brightly, from its high, almighty position in the sky.

I guess that's where this God guy is. Getting a bird's eye view, and all.

Well, it seems he'd swooped down in time to save me and Adam after all.

So he couldn't be _that_ bad.

Despite the albino thing.

Which, considering a lot . . . isn't as bad as I make out. I mean, I like being different, sometimes.

There's no other CeeCee Webb in this world.

I basked in the warmth that caressed me, and sighed.

After the swarm of peewees left the beach, Adam finally came over, making my stomach whoop in giddy thrills.

That guy was _mine_. After so long, he was actually _mine_.

Not that I owned him, or anything. Every man is his own, after all.

But Adam was "with me."

And he didn't want to be anywhere else but there.

Squidging his butt beside me, he gave me a bashful blush, and gave me an awkward little kiss on the cheek.

There was something in that that made me almost choke to death in happiness.

Because that was another promise that I knew he was going to keep.

Adam saw a bunch of our used coke cans, and was all, 'Hey, you want me to bin those for you?'

'Sure,' I said.

He picked them up –

'No,' Suze said quickly with a laugh, 'Those two in your hand are only half empty.'

'No they're not,' I said easily. 'They're half full.'

He promptly put them back down for our drinking pleasure, and walked to the bin, tripping clumsily over a sandcastle on the way.

God, I love this guy so much . . . I just love how _im_perfect he is . . .

And I think that I love how imperfect I am, too.

_Finally._

8 -

THE END.


End file.
